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The CIA
and the Cult
of Intelligence

Victor Marchetti
and

John D. Marks

AND YE SHALL KNOW THE TRUTH
AND THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE.

John, viii: 32
(inscribed on the marble wall of the
main lobby at CIA headquartere,
Langley, Virginia)

A LAUREL BOOK
Published by
Dell Publishing Co.. Inc.
I Dag Hammarskjold Plazii
New York. New York IUI)I7

To Btmict and Barhan

CopyrighiO 1974. I980by Victor Miirchelti and John D. Marks

Introduction copyright C I'JSd by Anthony Lewis

All rights reserved under Inlcrnutionul and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. For inlornution address
Alfred A Knopf. Inc . New York. New York.

Laurel (B TM A74fi23. Dell l>uhli.shing Co.. Inc.

ISBN: I)-4411..1I2<JK I

Published by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf. Inc.
Printed in the United States nf America
July mi
10 9 8 7 6 5 4

WFH

CONTENTS

Iniroduciion by Anthony Lewis ix

Publisher's Note xix

Authors' Prefaces xx

Acknowledgments xxv

Introduction by Melvin L. Wulf xxvi

PART I

ONE The Cult of Intelligence 3

TWO The Clandestine Theory 12
THREE The CIA and the Intelligence

Community 49

PART 11

FOUR Special Operations 99

FIVE Proprietary Organizations 118

SIX Propaganda and Disinformation 137

SEVEN Espionage and Counterespionage 1S8

PART 111

EIGHT The Clandestine Mentality 205

NINE Intelligence and Policy 248

TEN Controlling the CIA 274

ELEVEN Conclusions 317

Appendix The Bissell Philosophy 325

Index 347

INTRODUCTION
by Anthony Lewis

Few books change national attitudes. This one did. When it
was first published in 1974, the Central Intelligence Agency
was regarded by most Americans who had heard of it as an
unusually skillful, wise, and successful branch of the United
States Government. The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence
began a process of public reappraisal — a process that contin-
ued through newspaper reports, the work of a presidential
commission, and congressional hearings. Over the years the
tide of opinion ebbed and flowed; the CIA lost and then
regained much of its political support. But there was a
lasting change in attitudes, I think: bringing a degree of
skepticism toward the agency, an unwillingness to let it
continue enjoying a total exemption from the scrutiny to
which the Constitution generally makes government subject.

What Victor Marchetti and John Marks did was a classic
vindication of the American constitutional theory that public
knowledge is essential to both democratic and effective
government. Not just the First Amendment but the whole
system constructed at the Philadelphia convention in 1787
rests on the premise of an informed electorate, holding its
rulers accountable and thus preventing the corruption of power.
As Justice Brandeis put it a century and a half later: "Sunshine
is the best of disinfectants." Marchetti and Marks let light in
on the work of the CIA. They supplied facts where there
had been none.

It is difficult, years later, to remember our state of permis-
sive ignorance concerning the CIA. I do not exclude
myself — or most journalists. We thought of the agency as
better informed than the State or Defense departments, and
rather more on the liberal side in international affairs. We
knew men who worked out in Langley; they were notably
well-bred, articulate, perhaps a bit bookish — certainly not
the sort of people to conspire against freely elected govern-
ments or plot the assassination of Left Wing leaders. That
faith survived the Bay of Pigs intact. For the most part it
even survived the Vietnam War, which shattered the general

X

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

postwar love affair between the Washington press corps and
the government, as the press learned that officials did not
know more and could not be trusted to advance shared
values.

Marchetti and Marks showed us that the Central Intelli-
gence Agency, too, had made mistakes: not just slips or
human errors but grave errors of policy. They miide us
aware, dramatically, that the agency not only engaged in
classic intelligence work — the collecting of information by
one means or another — but also intervened in the political
process of other countries by covert actions: subsidies to
favored parties, dirty tricks, the supply of arms. They also
corrected a general belief that the CIA concentrated its
efforts on the Soviet Union. In fact, they said, "The agency
works mainly in the Third World," in relatively small and
weak countries — and there, "at least since the CIA

has lost many more battles than it has won, even by its
own standards."

In that paragraph of their manuscript, Marchetti and Marks
listed African, Asian, and Latin American countries that
had been the targets of CIA covert intervention. But it is
only now, years afterward, that we are able to read some of
the names. The list was struck out by CIA censors in 1973,
and the courts upheld the censorship. Further administrative ^
appeals finally resulted in permission to publish these coun-
tries from the original list: Chile, the Congo, Cambodia,
Laos, Vietnam, the Philippines. (See p. 320.) How fast the
world moves: since the original censorship, the Congo has
changed its name to Zaire, Chile has been taken over by a
military junta, and Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam have all
come under the control of what was in 1972 the Communist
regime of North Vietnam.

There is a great irony attached to The CIA and the Cult of
Intelligence. The book was censored, and the legal theory
adopted by the courts to justify that censorship was in my
judgment the most dangerous defeat in many years for
Americans' freedom to speak and write and read without
official approval. Yet despite the censorship, Marchetti and
Marks reached the public with their facts and their criticism
of governmental conduct, just as the Constitution intended.
Indeed, in a fascinating way, the heavy hand of the CIA
censors and of the courts actually helped them to get their

Introduction by Anthony Lewis

xi

message across: the CIA helped to destroy its own myth of
wisdom and efficiency.

The way it happened was this: CIA officials read the
manuscript in 1973 and told Marchetti and Marks that they
had to remove 339 passages, nearly a fifth of the book. The
officials may have thought that the authors or the publisher,
Alfred A. Knopf, would lose interest and drop the whole
idea. They did not. First Marchetti and Marks and their
lawyer — Melvin L. Wulf, then legal director of the Ameri-
can Civil Liberties Union — argued each of the deletions
with the agency. Some of them were manifestly absurd: the
fact, for example, that Richard Helms of the CIA. at a
National Security Council meeting, had mispronounced the
name of the Malagasy Republic. Many others were facts
long since published: not secrets at all. After long negotia-
tions the CIA yielded on 171 items, not out of kindness but
because officials knew that every deletion was going to be
contested in court and they did not want to look foolish.
That left 168 censored passages. And then Knopf decided to
go ahead and publish the book with blanks for those passages,
and with the sections that the CIA had originally cut but
then restored printed in boldface.

The result was a dramatic demonstration of how censor-
ship works: the arbitrariness, the design very often to pre-
vent official embarrassment rather than protect real secrets.
The book had special impact. And some people who mat-
tered noticed how far the CIA had gone to stop disclosure of
its blunders, abuses of power, and mistaken policies. I think
it is fair to say that the doubts raised then led in time to the
investigative reports by Seymour Hersh of The New York
Times, the Rockefeller Commission, and the Senate Intelli-
gence Committee under Senator Frank Church of Idaho.

The legal device by which the CIA was ib\e to see the
manuscript in the first place, and censor it, was an ingenious
one. Victor Marchetti had been an official of the agency
and. like other employees, had signed a promise not to
disclose secrets he had learned there, while on the job or
later. These secrecy agreements had always been considered
a way of alerting CIA employees to their responsibility and
of putting moral pressure on them, and of course they could
be fired for breaking the promise. But the agreements were
not thought to be legally binding; in fact, William Colby,
later Director of Central Intelligence, told a congressional

xii The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

committee that the agency had no way to get a court to stop
leaks. Then, when the CIA officials learned that Marchetti
was planning to write a book, they went into court and
claimed that his agreement was a legally binding "contract,"
enforceable by an injunction against Marchetti. The courts
so held, and they subjected Victor Marchetti to an order
unique in American history. For the rest of his life, he was
forbidden to disclose "in any manner" — writing, conversation,
whatever — any classified information that he had learned
while at the CIA, unless he got official clearance first.

As I write, eight years later, that order still stands. And
over the years the CIA has enforced it with what could be
called niggling rigor. Agency representatives have let Marchetti
know they were in the audience at meetings he was to
address, so he had better not say anything out of line. Once,
on Canadian radio, he referred to a CIA experiment in
wiring cats with minimicrophones; the government complained
that he had violated the injunction.

What makes all this so extraordinary, legally, is that the
First Amendment frowns on "prior restraints": orders, like
the one against Marchetti, that prevent someone from writ-
ing or speaking except on terms approved by authorities.
The First Amendment says that Congress shall make no law
"abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press." In the
great case of Sear v. Minnesota, in 1931, the Supreme Court
said that the "chief purpose" of those words had been to
make sure this country would not have a system of prior
censorship like the one that had existed in seventeenth-
century England, when nothing could be printed without an
official license. Mow, then, can the courts have applied just
such a system to Victor Marchetti (and, as co-author of this
book, John Marks)? l~he answer is hard to find as one reads
the opinions; judges have not faced the problem squarely.
But their logic seems to be that Marchetti, and others who
work for the CIA, waive their First Amendment rights when
they take the job and sign the secrecy agreement. Even if it
were that easy to give up one's constitutional rights — and the
courts have usually said that it is not — there would still be
another problem. It has been the rule in this country that
officials cannot impose regulations unless Congress autho-
rizes them, and especially not when constitutional rights are
involved. Tlius in 1959 the Supreme Court said the Defense
Department could not use a security system that relied on

Introduction by Anthony Lewis

xiii

anonymous accusers because Congress and the President
had not clearly authorized such a system. Yet Congress had
never considered, much less approved, the theory of censor-
ship by "contract" imposed on Marchetti and Marks.

Melvin L. Wulf, in his introduction to the original edition
of this book, describes how the case developed — how the
government advanced and the courts approved the sweeping
theory of Secrecy by Contract. To that account 1 can add
one or two observations from a different perspective.

First, it is necessary to say a word about "secrets." Even
in the United States, the most open of countries, the average
citizen still tends to be impressed when a government official
talks about "secrets" or "classified information." And of
course there are real secrets, which deserve protection: codes,
for instance, or the plans for nuclear retaliation to an enemy
attack. But the overwhelming proportion of the millions of
documents classified by federal officials are routine affairs of
no real security interest. That fact, known to anyone who
deals regularly with the Washington bureaucracy, is beauti-
fully demonstrated by this book itself. Consider these items
that the CIA originally tried to censor and then allowed to
be published in the original edition:

• "The Chilean election was scheduled for the following
September, and Allende, a declared Marxist, was one of the
principal candidates." (See p. 12.)

• "Henry Kissinger, the single most powerful man at the
forty-committee meeting on Chile." (See p. 15.)

• "As incredible as it may seem in retrospect, some of the
CIA"s economic analysts (and many other officials in
Washington) were in the early 1960s still inclined to accept
much of Peking's propaganda as to the success of Mao's
economic experiment. ■ (See p. 103.)

litis new edition provides further evidence of the foolish-
ness so often covered by claims that a disclosure would
threaten the national security. It includes twenty-five pas-
sages censored when the book was originally published but
released after years of further administrative proceedings.
Looking at these supposed "secrets," the reader is bound to
wonder about the good faith of the CIA censors, or their
common sense.

One of these newly published items is about a chemical
that makes mud more slippery. The CIA thought of drop-
ping it on the Ho Chi Minh Trail during the rainy season,

xiv The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

hoping to interrupt the Vietnamese supply route. (See p.
107.) The idea didn't work, and it was all over before 1974,
but the censors still kept it out.

Another passage now published said that the Soviets had
electronic bugs in the American embassy code room in
Moscow — and were able to translate the sounds of typewrit-
ers into letters. (See p. 186.) The bugs had long since been
found, the leak ended. Tlie Russians knew what they had
been doing. From whom was it being kept a secret?

Most bewildering of all is a series of censored items about
Africa. The book describes a meeting of the National Se-
urity Council under President Nixon in December 1969. After
the first sentence the censors cut out a passage. Now re-
stored (p. 248). it reads: "The purpose of this session was to
decide what American policy should be toward the govern-
ments of southern Africa."

A few lines down, the censors cut in midsentence: "There
was sharp disagreement within the government on how hard
a line the United States should take with the ..." Restored,
it goes on: . . white-minority regimes of South Africa,
Rhodesia, and the Portuguese colonies in Africa."

Then two words were cut from this sentence: "Henry
Kissinger talked about the kind of general posture the United
States could maintain toward the and out-
lined the specific policy options open to the President." The
missing words turn out to be: "white regimes."

Finally, the censors cut a reference to the fact that Kissinger
had sent a National Security Study Memorandum (NSSM 39)
to departments interested in southern Africa. NSSM 39 was
in fact published and widely discussed in 1974. It took the
view that the various movements for majority rule in south-
ern Africa were unlikely to succeed soon.

To the extent that those censored passages on Africa
point anywhere, it is toward a discussion of policy. Tlie
Kissinger-Nixon policy was founded on the belief that the
Portuguese would hold on to their African colonies indef-
initely. Within a few years that premise was shattered, and
the whole policy had to be reappraised. Is there any serious
argument of security that the American public should not
have been allowed, five years afterward, to reflect on the
wisdom of the policy and the way it was made? What has it
got to do with CIA "secrets"?

Second, there is a misconception that the legal theory

Introduction by Anthony Lewis

XV

developed in the Marchetti case allows the CIA to suppress
something by an ex-employee only if the agency can con-
vince the courts of a genuine threat to security. This was the
belief, amazingly, of a twenty-six-year CIA veteran. Cord
Meyer, who wrote a book about his career. He had trouble
clearing it through the agency censors, spending a lot of time
and money to prove that material once classified hud long
since become public. Then Meyer wrote a newspaper col-
umn about his troubles, saying that the censors even tried to
delete "whole sections of a chapter describing how a typical
KGB station operates abroad, " even though that could hardly
be a secret to the KGB. But he concluded that what he
called "peacetime censorship" was not too dangerous, for
this reason:

Fortunately, the Federal courts have held that it is
not sufficient for the government to prove that informa-
tion has been stamped "secret." The burden of proof is
on the government to demonstrate that release of the
information could cause damage to the national security.

Unfortunately, Meyer's statement is the opposite of the
truth. In the Marchetti case, the courts held precisely that
they would not weigh the possible damage of any censored
passage to the national security; it was enough if the CIA
could show simply that something had been included in a
document stamped secret while Marchetti was in the agency
and had not been officially released since.

That was the unhappy end of the judicial process that was
still under way when Melvin L. Wulf wrote his introduction.
He sounded a note of hope because, at that point, he had
had a favorable decision from conservative Federal Judge
Albert V. Bryan, Jr., of Alexandria, Virginia. Judge Bryan
heard the testimony of high CIA officials to the effect that
the 168 passages they wanted to delete were classified — and
in most cases did not believe what they said. He found that
only 27 of the 168 contained material that had been specifi-
cally classified while Marchetti was in the agency. But on
appeal the government swept all that away. The U.S. Court
of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit held that Judge Bryan had
imposed too high a standard on the CIA in demanding
specific proof of classification. It was enough if the item in
question had appeared in a classified document, even an

xvi The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

entire book stamped SECRET; there was no need to show
that the classifying officer had had the particular matter in
mind. Nor was there any need for the agency to convince the
court that the national security was at risk. CIA officials, the
court said, were entitled to a "presumption of regularity."

In short, the courts simply should not second-guess or
even examine the CIA's reasons for censoring an ex-
employee's words: there will be no meaningful judicial review.
And that leads to a third observation. Judges are evidently
uneasy about mixing in the intelligence business. Only that
can explain the extraordinary deference paid to the CIA in
this and other cases.

Five years after Victor Marchetti, John Marks, and their
publisher were defeated in the courts, the Supreme Court
took an even more radical and dangerous step toward offi-
cial censorship. The case was that of Frank Snepp, who had
been a CIA man in Vietnam and wrote a book. Decent
Interval, about the last days of the American presence there.
Snepp felt that high officials, notably Secretary of State
Kissinger, had made craven and immoral decisions, worst of
all in abandoning thousands of Vietnamese colleagues to
their fate. Mc did not submit his manuscript for clearance, as
he had promised to do in his secrecy agreement, but pub-
lished the book before the agency was aware of his plans.
Too late to get an injunction against Snepp, the Justice
Department asked the courts to make some new and even
more ingenious law, imposing a massive financial penalty on
Snepp for violating his "contract." Summarily — without hear-
ing argument or even allowing Snepp's lawyers to brief the
issue — the Supreme Court imposed a "constructive trust"
on Snepp. requiring him to give the government everything
he earned from his book. That was S140,000, Snepp's sole
income over a period of three years, with nothing deductible
even for his living expenses. (The sum was less, incidentally,
than he would have earned by staying in the CIA and
keeping quiet about the wrongs he had observed.)

In the Marchetti case the lower courts developed the idea
of Secrecy by Contract — the theory that, without congres-
sional authorization, the CIA could make its employees sign
away their constitutional rights for the rest of their lives. In
the Snepp case the Supreme Court seemed to remove even
the requirement of a contract from this theory. It hinted that
anyone in the government who had access to important

Introduction by Anthony Lewis xvii

secrets could be sued for violating his "trust" if he published
something without clearance, whether or Dot he had signed a
secrecy agreement. The Court put it: "Quite apart from the
plain language of the [secrecy] agreement, the nature of
Snepp's duties and his conceded access to confidential sources
and materials could establish a trust relationship." That ap-
proach would in effect give the United States the equivalent
of Britain's notorious Official Secrets Act, which makes it a
crime to disclose any government information — however
innocuous — without official approval.

There was a revealing indication of judicial attitudes in the
Supreme Court's opinion in the Snepp case, a footnote that
read as follows:

Every major nation in the world has an intelligence
service. Whatever fairly may be said about some of its
past activities, the CIA (or its predecessor the OSS) is
an agency thought by every President since Franklin D.
Roosevelt to be essential to the security of the United
States and — in a sense — the free world. It is impossible
for a government wisely to make critical decisions about
foreign policy and national defense without the benefit
of dependable foreign intelligence. Sec generally T.
Powers, The Man Who Kept the Secrets.

The reverential tone of that footnote shows again that the
courts give the CIA a discretion that they would not think
of allowing any other agency of government — not even the
President of the United States, to judge by the Nixon Tapes
Case. The cult of intelligence thrives on the bench. It has
only to be added that the justices evidently did not know
what they were doing when they cited the Thomas Powers
book. It contained large amounts of classified information,
disclosed by various past and present CIA officials when
interviewed by Powers.

The political branches have responded more realistically
than the courts to the problem of preventing the CIA abuses
of power. The process that this book helped to start ended
with permanent House and Senate Intelligence committees
doing a continuing job of scrutiny, and with the Executive
Branch keeping a much more formal check on the agency.

But the legal precedent set by the treatment of The CIA
and the Cult of Intelligence has not become any less danger-

xviii The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

ous with time. In that sense, the book is a classic piece of
evidence in the endless war for freedom of speech and of the
press. In the old days, in this country, the test of that
freedom was the right of the soapbox orator or the radical
editor to expound his theory of society. Today the issue is
not freedom to propagate ideas but freedom to tell the facts
about government — and freedom of the citizen to acquire
the facts. As government becomes more powerful in our
lives the ability to know what it is doing and hence to control
its power becomes ever more important. We can still hope
that some day a less deferential Supreme Court will apply
that truth to the exercise of secret power, holding even the
Central Intelligence Agency subject to the Constitution, and
will vindicate The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence in law as
it has long since been vindicated in the necessary truths it
told.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence was first published in
1974. By Federal Court order, the authors were required to
submit the manuscript of this book to the CIA for review
prior to publication. Under the terms of the court ruling, the
CIA ordered the deletion of 339 passages of varying length.
Later, following demands to the CIA by legal counsel for
the authors — and the commencement of litigation by the
publisher and the authors against the CIA challenging the
censorship involved — all but 168 of these deletions were
reinstated. For a full account of these events, see the intro-
duction by Melvin L. Wulf, Legal Director of the American
Civil Liberties Union.

In the past year — under the Freedom of Information Act in
a suit brought by the Center for National Security Studies —
some twenty-five previously deleted passages have been
cleared for publication and appear for the first time in this
edition. A special introduction by Anthony Lewis, noted
columnist and political commentator, chronicles these most
recent developments. As the book goes to press, additional
passages are being declassified and may be included in fu-
ture editions.

As it presently exists, therefore, the manuscript of The CIA
and the Cull of Intelligence demonstrates with remarkable
clarity the actual workings of the CIA's "classification" system.
In this edition, passages the CIA originally ordered excised —
and then reluctantly permitted to be reinstated — are printed
in boldface type. Those passages included for the first time
in the 1980 edition are printed in boldface italic type. Passages
included in this edition for the first time are printed in italic
type. Firm deletions are indicated by blank spaces with the
word DELETED. The number of lines cut is indicated.

AUTHORS' PREFACES

I

My introduction to the intelligence business came during the
early years of the Cold War, while serving with the U.S.
Army in Germany. There, in 1952, I was sent to the Euro-
pean Command's "special" school at Oberammergau to study
Russian and the rudiments of intelligence methods and
techniques. Afterward I was assigned to duty on the East
German border. The information we collected on the enemy's
plans and activities was of little significance, but the duty
was good, sometimes even exciting. We believed that we
were keeping the world free for democracy, that we were in
the first line of defense against the spread of communism.

After leaving the military service, I returned to college at
Penn State, where I majored in Soviet studies and history.
Shortly before graduation, I was secretly recruited by the
CIA, which I officially joined in September 1955; the struggle
between democracy and communism seemed more impor-
tant than ever, the CIA was in the forefront of that vital
international battle. I wanted to contribute.

Except for one year with the Clandestine Services, spent
largely in training, most of my career with the CIA was
devoted to analytical work. As a Soviet military specialist, I
did research, then current intelligence, and Anally national
estimates — at the time, the highest form of intelligence
production. I was at one point the CIA's — and probably the
U.S. government's — leading expert on Soviet military aid to
the countries of the Third World. I was involved in uncover-
ing Moscow's furtive efforts that culminated in the Cuban
missile crisis of 1962 and. later, in unraveling the enigma of
the "Soviet ABM problem."

From 1966 to 1969 1 served as a staff officer in the Office of
the Director of the CIA. where I held such positions as
special assistant to the Chief of Planning. Programming, and
Budgeting, special assistant to the Executive Director, and
executive assistant to the Deputy Director. It was during these
years that I came to see how the highly compartmentalized

Authors' Prefaces

xxi

organization performed as a whole, and what its full role in
the U.S. intelligence community was. The view from the
Office of the Director was both enlightening and discouraging.
The CIA did not, as advertised to the public and the Congress,
function primarily as a central clearinghouse and producer of
national intelligence for the government. Its basic mission
was that of clandestine operations, particularly covert action —
the secret intervention in the internal affairs of other nations.
Nor was the Director of CIA a dominant— or much in-
terested — figure in the direction and management of the
intelligence community which he supposedly headed. Rather,
his chief concern, like that of most of his predecessors and
the agency's current Director, was in overseeing the CIA's
clandestine activities.

Disenchanted and disagreeing with many of the agency's
policies and practices, and, for that matter, with those of the
intelligence community and the U.S. government, I resigned
from the CIA in late 1969. But having been thoroughly indoc-
trinated with the theology of "national security" for so many
years, I was unable at first to speak out publicly. And, I
must admit, I was still imbued with the mystique of the
agency and the intelligence business in general, even retain-
ing a certain affection for both. I therefore sought to put
forth my thoughts — perhaps more accurately, my feelings — in
fictional form. I wrote a novel. The Rope-Dancer, in which I
tried to describe for the reader what life was actually like in
a secret agency such as the CIA, and what the differences
were between myth and reality in this overly romanticized
profession.

The publication of the novel accomplished two things. It
brought me in touch with numerous people outside the inbred,
insulated world of intelligence who were concerned over the
constantly increasing size and role of intelligence in our
government. And this, in turn, convinced me to work toward
bringing about an open review and, I hoped, some reform
in the U.S. intelligence system. Realizing that the CIA
and the intelligence community are incapable of reform-
ing themselves, and that Presidents, who see the system as a
private asset, have no desire to change it in any basic way, I
hoped to win support for a comprehensive review in Congress.
I soon learned, however, that those members of Congress
who possessed the power to institute reforms had no interest
in doing so. The others either lacked the wherewithal to

xxii The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

accomplish any significant changes or were apathetic. I there-
fore decided to write a book — this book — expressing my
views on the CIA and explaining the reasons why I believe
the time has come for the U.S. intelligence community to be
reviewed and reformed.

The CIA and the government have fought long and hard —
and not always ethically — first to discourage the writing of
this book and then to prevent its publication. They have
managed, through legal technicalities and by raising the spec-
ter of "national security" violations, to achieve an unprece-
dented abridgment of my constitutional right to free speech.
They have secured an unwarranted and outrageous permaneni
injunction against me. requiring that anything I write or say,
"factual, fictional or otherwise," on the subject of intelli-
gence must First be censored by the CIA. Under risk of
criminal contempt of court, I can speak only at my own peril
and must allow the CIA thirty days to review, and excise,
my writings — prior to submitting them to a publisher for
consideration.

It has been said that among the dangers faced by a demo-
cratic society in fighting totalitarian systems, such as fascism
and communism, is that the democratic government runs the
risk of imitating its enemies' methods and, thereby, destroy-
ing the very democracy that it is seeking to defend. I cannot
help wondering if my government is more concerned with
defending our democratic system or more intent upon imitat-
ing the methods of totalitarian regimes in order to maintain
its already inordinate power over the American people.

VICTOR MARCHETTI

Oakton, Virginia
February 1974

II

Unlike Victor Marcheiii, I did not join the government to
do intelligence work. Rather, fresh out of college in 1966, I
entered the Foreign Service. My first assignment was to have
been London, but with my draft board pressing for my
services, the State Department advised me that the best way
to stay out of uniform was to go to Vietnam as a civilian

Authors' Prefaces

xxiii

advisor in the so-called pacification program. I reluctantly
agreed and spent the next eighteen months there, returning
to Washington just after the Tet offensive in February 1968.
From personal observation, I knew that American policy in
Vietnam was ineffective, but I had been one of those who
thought that if only better tactics were used the United
States could "win." Once back in this country, I soon came
to see that American involvement in Indochina was not only
ineffective but totally wrong.

l~he State Department had assigned me to the Bureau of
Intelligence and Research, first as an analyst of French and
Belgian affairs and then as staff assistant to State's intelli-
gence director. Since this bureau carries on State's liaison
with the rest of the intelligence community, I was for the
first time introduced to the whole worldwide network of
American spying — not so much as a participant but as a
shuffler of top-secret papers and a note-taker at top-level
intelligence meetings. Here I found the same kind of waste
and inefficiency I had come to know in Vietnam and, even
worse, the same sort of reasoning that had led the country
into Vietnam in the first place. In the high councils of the
intelligence community, there was no sense that intervention
in the internal affairs of other countries was not the inherent
right of the United States. "Don't be an idealist; you have to
live in the 'real' world," said the professionals. I found it
increasingly difficult to agree.

For me, the last straw was the American invasion of
Cambodia in April 1970. I felt personally concerned because
only two months earlier, on temporary assignment to a White
House study group, I had helped write a relatively pessimis-
tic report about the situation in Vietnam. It seemed now
that our honest conclusions about the tenuous position of
the Thieu government had been used in some small way to
justify the overt expansion of the war into a new country.

I wish now that I had walked out of the State Department
the day the troops went into Cambodia. Within a few months,
however, I found a new job as executive assistant to Senator
Clifford Case of New Jersey. Knowing of the Senator's oppo-
sition to the war, I looked at my new work as a chance to try
to change what I knew was wrong in the way the United
States conducts its foreign policy.

During my three years with Senator Case, when we were
concentrating our efforts on legislation to end the war, to

xxiv The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

limit the intelligence community, and to curb presidential
abuses of executive agreements, I came to know Victor
Marchetti. With our common experience and interest in
intelligence, we talked frequently about how things could be
improved. In the fall of 1972. obviously disturbed by the legal
action the government had taken against the book he in-
tended to write but which he had not yet started, he felt he
needed someone to assist him in his work. Best of all would
be a coauthor with the background to make a substantive
contribution as well as to help in the actual writing. This
book is the result of our joint effort.

I entered the project in the hope that what we have to say
will have some effect in influencing the public and the Con-
gress to institute meaningful control over American intelli-
gence and to end the type of intervention abroad which, in
addition to being counterproductive, is inconsistent with the
ideals by which our country is supposed to govern itself.
Whether such a hope was misguided remains to be seen.

JOHN D. MARKS

Washington, D.C.
February 1974

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Work on The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence began in early
1972 and from the beginning the effort was plagued with
problems, largely generated by an angry CIA and a mis-
guided U.S. government. Throughout the ordeal, our friend
and agent, David Obst, was a constant source of encourage-
ment and help. Similarly, the good people at the American
Civil Liberties Union — Aryeh Neier, Sandy Rosen, John
Shattuck, Mimi Schneider, and others, but especially Mel
Wulf — provided more than free counsel and an effective
legal defense of our constitutional rights. TTiey have been
friends of the best sort. We owe a special debt of gratitude
to our editor, Dan Okrent, and to Tony Schulte of Knopf,
who never lost faith and always offered inspiration. To the
president of Random House, RobCTt Bernstein, who had the
courage to go forward with the book in the face of intimidat-
ing odds, we are deeply indebted. And. lastly, to Jim Boyd
of the Fund for Investigative Journalism and all the others
who helped in various ways but must in the circumstances
remain anonymous, we say thank you.

V M. and J D M

Introduction

by Melvin L. Wulf
Legal Director
American Civil Liberties Union

On April 18, 1972, Victor Marchetti became the first Ameri-
can writer to be served with an official censorship order
issued by a court of the United States. The order prohibited
him from "disclosing in any manner (1) any information
relating to intelligence activities. (2) any information con-
cerning intelligence sources and methods, or (3) any intelli-
gence information. ■■

To secure the order, government lawyers had appeared in
the chambers of Judge Albert V. Bryan, Jr., of the United
States District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia, in
Alexandria, on the morning of April 18, without having
notified Marchetti. The government's papers recited that
Marchetti had worked at the CIA from 1955 to 1969, that he
had signed several "secrecy agreements" in which he had
agreed not to reveal any information learned during his
employment, that after he left the CIA he had revealed
forbidden information, that he was planning to write a non-
fiction book about the agency, and that publication of the
book would "result in grave and irreparable injury to the
interests of the United States."

Among the papers presented to the judge was an affidavit
(classified "Secret") from TTiomas H. Karamessines, Deputy
Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, the head of the
CIA's covert-activities branch. The affidavit said that a maga-
zine article and an outline of a proposed book, both written
by Marchetti, had been turned over to the CIA and that
they contained information about the CIA's secret activities.
The affidavit related several of the items and described how
their disclosure would, in the CIA's opinion, be harmful to
the United States. On the basis of that affidavit and others,
including one by CIA Director Richard Helms, Judge Bryan
signed a temporary restraining order forbidding Marchetti to
disclose any information about the CIA and requiring him to

Introduction by Melvin L. Wulf xxvii

submit any "manuscript, article or essay, or other writing,
factual or otherwise," to the CIA before "releasing it to any
person or corporation." It was that order which United
States marshals served upon Marchetti. 7~he next month was
consumed by a hectic and unsuccessful effort to have the
order set aside.

Marchetti asked the ACLU for assistance the day after
receiving the order, and was in New York the following day
to meet his lawyers and prepare his defense. At the first
court appearance, on Friday, April 21, we unsuccessfully
urged Judge Bryan to dissolve the temporary restraining
order. He also refused to order the government to allow
Marchetti's lawyers to read the "secret" affidavit, because
none of us had security clearance. The following Monday we
were in Baltimore to arrange an appeal to the United States
Court of Appeals to argue there that the temporary restrain-
ing order should be dissolved. Hie court agreed to hear
argument two days later. During the Baltimore meeting the
government lawyers announced that they had conferred secur-
ity clearance upon me and that I would be able to read the
secret affidavit but could not have a copy of it. They said
they would clear the other defense lawyers during the next
few days. We were also told that any witnesses we intended
to present at trial, to be held that Friday, would also require
security clearance before we could discuss the secret affida-
vit with them. That was a hell of a way to prepare for trial;
we couldn't even talk to prospective witnesses unless they
were approved by the government.

We argued the appeal before the Court of Appeals on
Wednesday, but that too was unsuccessful, and the tempo-
rary restraining order remained in effect. Our only satisfac-
tion was an order by the court prohibiting both the CIA and
the Department of Justice from trying to influence our
witnesses in any way.

On Friday we appeared before Judge Bryan and reluc-
tantly asked for a two-week postponement because it had
been impossible for us to secure witnesses who could testify
that day. The need for security clearance had made it impos-
sible for us to discuss the case with those witnesses who had
at least tentatively agreed to testify for the defense. But,
more depressing, we had had great difficulty finding people
willing to testify at all. We had called a few dozen prospects,
largely former members of the Kennedy and Johnson admin-

xxviii The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

istrations who had reputations as liberals and even, in some
cases, reputations as civil-libertarians. I'm still waiting for
half of them to return my calls. Of the other half, most were
simply frightened at the idea of being identified with the
case, and some, including a few who had themselves re-
vealed classified information in their published memoirs,
agreed with the government that Marchetti's pen should be
immobilized. In the end, our list of witnesses was short but
notable: Professor Abram Chayes of Harvard Law School,
and former Legal Advisor to the Department of State in the
Kennedy administration: Professor Richard Falk, Milbank
Professor of Intem:itional Law at Princeton; Morton Halperin,
former Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense and staff mem-
ber of the National Security Council under Kissinger; and
Professor Paul Blackstock, an intelligence expert from the
University of South Carolina.

The next two weeks were consumed by the frustrating
hunt for witnesses and by other pre-trial requirements, in-
cluding examination of Karamessines and the CIA's Security
Director, who were to be the government's chief witnesses.

The trial started and ended on May IS. Essentially, it
consisted of Karamessines repeating the contents of his se-
cret affidavit. As interesting as it would be to describe the
day in detail. I am forbidden to, for the public was excluded
and the testimony of the government witnesiies is classiFied.
The result, however, is public. It was a clean sweep for the
CIA, and Judge Bryan issued a permanent injunction against
Marchetti.

The results on appeal were not much better. The validity
of the injunction was broadly afflrmed. The only limitation
imposed by the Court of Appeals was that only classified
information could be deleted from the book by the CIA.
The litigation finally came to an end in December 1972 when
the Supreme Court refused to hear the case. It was a great
defeat for Marchetti, for his lawyers — and for the First
Amendment.

American law has always recognized that injunctions against
publication — "prior restraints," in legal jargon — threaten the
root and branch of democratic society. Until 1971 , when the
New York Times was enjoined from printing the Pentagon
Papers, the federal government had never attempted to im-
pose a prior restraint on publication, and the handful of such

Introduction by Melvin L. Wulf xxix

efforts by the states were uniformly denounced by the Su-
preme Court. As we learned from the Pentagon Papers
Case, however, the Nixon administration was not going to
be deterred by a mere two hundred years of history from
becoming the first administration to try to suppress publica-
tion of a newspaper. They ultimately failed in their specific
goal of suppressing publication of a newspaper — but, for
fifteen days, a newspaper actually was restrained from
publishing, the first such restraint in American history.

The Times' resumption of publication of the Pentagon
Papers immediately after the Supreme Court decision would
seem to mean that the case ended victoriously. Although it
was a victory, it was not a sound victory, for only Justices
Black and Douglas said that injunctions against publication
were constitutionally forbidden under any circumstances. The
other members of the court made it perfectly clear that they
could imagine circumstances where such injunctions would
be enforced, notwithstanding the First Amendment's guaran-
tee of a free press. Nixon-administration lawyers could read
the opinions as well as ACLU lawyers, and they too saw that
the decision in the Pentagon Papers Case was not a knock-
out punch. So only ten months after being beaten off by the
New York Times, they were back in court trying the same
thing again with Victor Marchetti.

Nine opinions were written in the Pentagon Papers Case.
Out of all those opinions one standard emerge under which
a majority of the Justices would have allowed information to
be suppressed prior to publication: proof by the government
that disclosure would "surely result in direct, immediate and
irreparable injury to the Nation or its people." We were
comfortable with that standard because we were confident
that nothing Marchetti had disclosed or would disclose in the
future would have that effect. But we were not permitted to
put the government to its proof through the testimony of our
four witnesses because Judge Bryan agreed with the govern-
ment that Marchetti's case was different from the Pentagon
Papers Case. "We are not enjoining the press in this case,"
the government lawyers said. "We are merely enforcing a
contract between Marchetti and the CIA. This is not a First
Amendment case, it's just a contract action." The contract
to which they were referring was, of cowse, Marchetti's
secrecy agreement.

All employees of the CIA are required to sign an agree-

XXX

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

ment in which they promise not to reveal any information
learned during their employment which relates to "intelligence
sources or methods" without first securing authorization from
the agency. The standard form of the agreement includes
threats of prosecution and promises to deliver the most
awful consequences upon the slightest violation. The only
trouble with the threats is that until now they have been
unenforceable. Apart from disclosure of information classi-
fied by the Atomic Energy Commission, it is not a crime to
disclose classified information unless it is done under circum-
stances which involve what is commonly understood as
espionage — spying for a foreign nation. The government
tried, in the prosecution of Daniel Ellsberg, to stretch the
espionage statutes to punish his disclosure of the Pentagon
Papers, even though he had had no intent to injure the
United States, as required by the statute. Though that prose-
cution was aborted under the most dramatic circumstances,
including a surreptitious attempt by President Nixon to influ-
ence the trial judge, it is unlikely that the appeals courts
would have upheld such an expansive application of the
espionage laws — assuming that the jury would even have
brought in a guilty verdict.

In any case, being doubtful about how far the threat of
prosecution under a dubious statute would deter Marchetti
from publicly criticizing the CIA and inevitably disclosing
some of its practices, the CIA fell u|x>n the contract theory
as a device for trying to suppress his book before it was put
into print. The theory struck a harmonious note with 'the
federal judges who heard the case, and proved more success-
ful than the government probably ever dared to hope and
certainly more than we had ever expected. But it cheapens
the First Amendment to say that an agreement by an em-
ployee of the United States not to reveal some government
activity is the same as an agreement to deliver a hundred
bales of cotton. It ignores the compelling democratic princi-
ple that the public has a right to be well informed about its
government's actions.

Of course, some will be heard to say, "But these are
secrets," and indeed much of the information you will read
in this book has been considered to be secret. But "secrets"
have been revealed before — there were literally thousands of
them in the Pentagon Papers. Every high government offi-
cial who writes his memoirs after leaving office reveals

Introduction by Melvin L. Wtilf xxxi

"secrets" he learned while in government service, and most
had signed secrecy agreements too. "Secrets" are regularly
leaked to the press by government officers, sometimes to
serve official policy, sometimes only to serve a man's own
ambitions. In fact, disclosure of so-called secrets — even CIA
secrets — has a long and honorable history in our country,
and the practice ha.s proved to be valuable because it pro-
vides the public with important information that it must have
in order to pass judgment on its elected officials.

Furthermore, disclosure of "secret" information is rarely
harmful because the decision inside government to classify
information is notoriously frivolous. Experts have estimated
that up to 99 percent of the millions of documents currently
classified ought not be classified at all. But nut only is
disclosure of "secret" information generally harmless, it is a
tonic that improves our nation's health. Government officers
cried that disclosure of the Pentagon Papers would put the
nation's security in immediate jeopardy. When they were
finally published in their entirety, the only damage was to
the reputation of officials in the Kennedy and Johnson ad-
ministrations who were shown to have deceived the nation
about the war in Vietnam.

When you read this book, you will notice that, unlike any
other book previously published in the United States, this
one contains blanks. That is the remarkable effect of the
government's success. You will also notice that the book has
two authors, Victor Marchetti and John Marks. That is
another remarkable effect of the government's success. Af-
ter being enjoined, defeated in his attempts to win relief in
the appellate courts, virtually ignored by the press, shunned
by his former colleagues at the CIA, unable even to discuss
the progress of his work with his editor at Knopf (because
the very purpose of the injunction was to forbid the pub-
lisher to see the manuscript before the CIA had had the
opportunity to censor it), there was serious question whether
Marchetti would be able to write the book at all. His discour-
agement was profound and his bitterness sharp. If he had
not written the book, the government's success would have
been complete, for that was its real objective. Luckily,
Marchetti and Marks came together, and with a shared
perspective on the evils of clandestine activities, they were

xxxii The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

able to do together what the government hoped would not
be done at all.

When the manuscript was completed at the end of August
1973, it was delivered to the CIA. Thirty days later, the time
allowed by the injunction, we received a letter from the CIA
which designated 339 portions of the book that were to be
deleted. Some of the deletions were single words, some were
several lines, some were portions of organizational charts,
and many were whole pages. In all, 15 to 20 percent of the
manuscript was ordered deleted. I won't soon forget that
September evening when Marchetti, Marks, and I sat in the
ACLU office for several hours literally cutting out the de-
leted parts of the manuscript so that we could deliver the
remains to Knopf. It was the Devil's work we did that day.

We filed suit in October, together with Knopf, challenging
the CIA's censorship. By the time we went to trial on
February 28, the agency had reduced the number of dele-
tions from 339 to 168. Withdrawal of half their original objec-
tions should not be taken as a sign of the CIA's generosity.
On the contrary, it was the result of our insistent demands
over a period of four months, and the agency's recognition
that we would go to the mat over the very last censored
word. The authors gave up nothing, and rejected several
invitations to re-write parts of the book so that it would be
satisfactory to the CIA.

There were three issues to be decided at the trial: did the
censored portions of the book consist of classiflcd information?
Was that information learned by the authors during their
government employment? And was any of it in the public
domain?

After a two-and-a-half-day trial, including testimony by
the five highest-ranking officials of the CIA, Judge Bryan
decided the case on March 29. It was a major victory for the
authors and the publisher. Bryan held that the agency had
failed, with a few exceptions, to prove that the deleted
information was classified.

The decision was probably more surprising to the CIA.
Accustomed as they have become to having their way, it is
unlikely to have occurred to them that a mere judge of the
United States would contradict their declarations about clas-
sified information, for it was the government's theory through-
out the case that material was classified if high-ranking officials
said it was classified. Our view, presented through the ex-

Introduction by Melvin L. Wulf

xxxiii

pert testimony of Morton Halperin, was that concrete proof
of classification was required. In the absence of documents
declaring specific information to be classified, or testimony
by the employee who had in fact clas.siFied specific information.
Judge Bryan flatly rejected mere assertions by ranking CIA
officers that such information was classified.

Of the 168 disputed items, he found only 27 which he could
say were classified. On the other hand, he found that only
seven of the 168 had been learned by Marchetti and Marks
outside their government employment, and that none of the
information was in public domain.

The decision is obviously important. It allows virtually the
entire book to be published (though the present edition still
lacks the deleted sections cleared by Judge Bryan, since he
postponed enforcement of his decision to allow the goverment
its right to appeal); it desanctifies the CIA; and it discards
the magical authority that has always accompanied govern-
ment incantation of "national security." Hopefully, the higher
courts will agree.

There will necessarily be differences of opinion on the sub-
ject of the disclosure of secret information. The reader of
this book can decide whether the release of the information
it contains serves the public's interest or injures the nation's
security. For myself, I have no doubts. Both individual citi-
zens and the nation as a whole will be far better off for the
book's having been published. The only injury inflicted in
the course of the struggle to publish the book is the damage
sustained by the First Amendment.

PART I

1.

THE CULT OF INTELLIGENCE

But ihis secrecy . . . has become a god in this
country, and those people who have secrets travel
in a kind of fralernity . . . and they will not speak
to anyone else.

— StNATOR I WILLIAM FULBRIOHT

Chairman. Senate Foreign
Relations Committee
November 1971

There exists in our nation today a powerful and dangerous
secret cult — the cult of intelligence.

Its holy men are the clandestine professionals of the Cen-
tral Intelligence Agency. Its patrons and protectors are the
highest officials of the federal government. Its membership
extending far beyond government circles, reaches into the
power centers of industry, commerce, finance, and labor,
Its friends are many in the areas of important public
influence — the academic world and the communications media.
The cult of intelligence is a secret fraternity of the American
political aristocracy.

The purpose of the cult is to further the foreign policies of
the U.S. government by covert and usually illegal means,
while at the same time containing the spread of its avowed
enemy, communism. Traditionally, the cult's hope has been
to foster a world order in which America would reign supreme,
the unchallenged international leader. Today, however, that
dream stands tarnished by time and frequent failures. Thus,
the cult's objectives are now less grandiose, but no less
disturbing. It seeks largely to advance America's self-appointed
role as the dominant arbiter of social, economic, and politi-
cal change in the awakening regions of Asia, Africa, and
Latin America. And its worldwide war against communism
has to some extent been reduced to a covert struggle to
maintain a self-serving stability in the Third World, using

4

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

whatever clandestine methods are available. For the cult of
intelligence, fostering "stability" may in one country mean
reluctant and passive acquiescence to evolutionary change;
in another country, the active maintenance of the status quo;
in yet another, a determined effort to revene popular trends
toward independence and democracy. The cult attempts that
which it believes it can accomplish and which — in the event
of failure or exposure — the U.S. government can plausibly
deny.

The CIA is both the center and the primary instrument of
the cult of intelligence. It engages in espionage and counter-
espionage, in propaganda and disinformation (the deliberate
circulation of false information), in psychological warfare
and paramilitary activities. It penetrates and manipulates pri-
vate institutions, and creates its own organizations (called
"proprietaries") when necessary. It recruits agents and
mercenaries; it bribes and blackmails foreign officials to
carry out its most unsavory tasks. It does whatever is re-
quired to achieve its goals, without any consideration of the
ethics involved or the moral consequences of its actions. As
the secret-action arm of American foreign policy, the CIA's
most potent weapon is its covert intervention in the internal
affairs of countries the U.S. government wishes to control or
influence.

Romanticized by myths, the operations of the CIA are
also beclouded by false images and shielded by official
deceptions. Its practices are hidden behind arcane and anti-
quated legalisms which prevent the public and even Con-
gress from knowing what the mysterious agency is doing — or
why. This the cult of intelligence justifies with dramatic
assertions that the CIA's purpose is to preserve the "national
security," that its actions are in response to the needs of the
nation's defense. No one — in an age in which secrecy is the
definitional operative of security — need know more than
that.

The cult is intent upon conducting the foreign affairs of
the U.S. government without the awareness or participation
of the people. It recognizes no role for a questioning legisla-
ture or an investigative press. Its adherents believe that only
they have the right and the obligation to decide what is
necessary to satisfy the national needs. Although it pursues
outmoded international [xilicies and unattainable ends, the
cult of intelligence demands that it not be held accountable

The Cull of Intelligence

5

for its actions by the people it professes to serve. It is a
privileged, as well as secret, charge. In their minds, those
who belong to the cult of intelligence have been ordained,
and their service is immune from public scrutiny.

The "clandestine mentality" is a mind-set that thrives on
secrecy and deception. It encourages professional amorality —
the belief that righteous goals can be achieved through the
use of unprincipled and normally unacceptable means. Thus,
the cult's leaders must tenaciously guard their official actions
from public view. To do otherwise would restrict their ability
to act independently; it would permit the American people
to pass judgment on not only the utility of their policies, but
the ethics of those policies as well. With the cooperation of
an acquiescent, ill-informed Congress, and the encourage-
ment and assistance of a series of Presidents, the cult has
built a wall of laws and executive orders around the CIA and
itself, a wall that has blocked effective public scrutiny.

When necessary, the members of the cult of intelligence,
including our Presidents (who are always aware of, generally
approve of, and often actually initiate the CIA's major
undertakings), have lied to protect the CIA and to hide their
own responsibility for its operations. The Eisenhower admin-
istration lied to the American people about the CIA's in-
volvement in the Guatemalan coup d'itat in 1954, about the
agency's support of the unsuccessful rebellion in Indonesia
in 1958, and about Francis Gary Powers' 1960 U-2 mission.
The Kennedy administration lied about the CIA's role in the
abortive invasion of Cuba in 1%1, admitting its involvement
only after the operation had failed disastrously. The Johnson
administration lied about the extent of most U.S. govern-
ment commitments in Vietnam and Laos, and all of the
CIA's. And the Nixon administration publicly lied about the
agency's attempt to fix the Chilean election in 1970. For
adherents to the cult of intelligence, hypocrisy and deception,
like secrecy, have become standard techniques for prevent-
ing public awareness of the CIA's clandestine operations,
and governmental accountability for them. And these men
who ask that they be regarded as honorable men, true
patriots, will, when caught in their own webs of deceit, even
assert that the government has an inherent right to lie to
its people.

6

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

The justification for the "right to lie" is that secrecy in
covert operations is necessary to prevent U.S. policies and
actions from coming to the attention of the "enemy" — or, in
the parlance of the clandestine trade, the "opposition." If
the opposition is oblivious to the CIA's operations, the
argument runs, then it cannot respond and the CIA activities
stand a good chance of succeeding. Nonetheless, in many
instances the opposition knows exactly what covert opera-
tions are being targeted against it, and it takes counteraction
when possible. The U-2 overflights and, later, those of the
photographic satellites were, and are, as well known to the
Soviets and the Chinese as Soviet overhead reconnaissance
of the United States is to the CIA: there is no way, when
engaging in operations of this magnitude, to keep them
secret from the opp)osition. It, too. employs a professional
intelligence service. In fact, from 1952 to 1964, at the height of
the Cold War, the Soviet KGB electronically intercepted
even the most secret messages routed through the code
room of the U.S. embassy in Moscow. This breach in secrecy,
however, apparently caused little damage to U.S. national
security, nor did the Soviet government collapse because the
CIA had for years secretly intercepted the private conversa-
tions of the top Russian leaders as they talked over their
limousine radio-telephones. Both sides knew more than
enough to cancel out the effect of any leaks. The fact is that
in this country, secrecy and deception in intelligence opera-
tions are as much to keep the Congress and the public from
learning what their government is doing as to shield these
activities from the opposition. The intelligence establishment
operates as it does to maintain freedom of action and avoid
accountability.

A good part of the CIA's power position is dependent upon
its careful mythologizing and glorification of the exploits of
the clandestine profession. Sometimes this even entails fos-
tering a sort of perverse public admiration for the covert
practices of the opposition intelligence services — to frighten
the public and thereby justify the actions of the CIA. What-
ever the method, the selling of the intelligence business is
designed to have us admire it as some sort of mysterious,
often magical profession capable of accomplishing terribly
difficult, if not miraculous, deeds. Like most myths, the
intrigues and successes of the CIA over the years have been

The Cult of Intelligence

7

more imaginary than real. What is real, unfortunately, is the
willingness of both the public and adherents of the cult to
believe the fictions that permeate the intelligence business.

The original mission of the CIA was to coordinate the
intelligence-collection programs of the various governmental
departments and agencies, and to produce the reports and
studies required by the national leadership in conducting the
affairs of U.S. foreign policy. This was President Truman's
view when he requested that Congress establish the secret
intelligence agency by passing the National Security Act of
1947. But General William "Wild Bill" Donovan, Allen Dulles,
and other veterans of the wartime Office of Strategic
Services — a virtually unregulated body, both romantic and
daring, tailor-made to the fondest dreams of the covert
operator — thought differently. TTiey saw the emergency agency
as the clandestine instrument by which Washington could
achieve foreign-policy goals not attainable through diplomacy.
TTiey believed thai the mantle of world leadership had been
passed by the British to the Americans, and that their own
secret service must take up where the British left off. Thus,
they lobbied Congress for the power to conduct covert
operations.

That Truman attempted to create an overt intelligence
organization, one which would emphasize the gathering and
analysis of information rather than secret operations, was
commendable. That he thought he could control the advo-
cates of coven action was, in retrospect, a gross miscalculation.
Congress, in an atmosphere of Cold War tension, allowed
itself to be persuaded by the intelligence professionals. With
the passage of the National Security Act of 1947 it allowed
the new agency special exemptions from the normal congres-
sional reviewing process, and these exemptions were ex-
panded two years later by the Central Intelligence Agency
Act of 1949. Of the greatest and most far-reaching conse-
quence was the provision in the 1947 law that permitted the
ClA to "perform such other functions and duties related to
intelligence ... as the National Security Council may from
time to time direct." From those few innocuous words the
CIA has been able, over the years, to develop a secret
charter based on NSC directives and presidential executive
orders, a charter almost completely at variance with the
apparent intent of the law that established the agency. This
vague phrase has provided the CIA with freedom to engage

8 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

in covert action, the right to intervene secretly in the inter-
nal affairs of other nations. It has done so usually with the
express approval of the White House, but almost always
without the consent of Congress, and virtually never with
the knowledge of the American public.

Knowing nothing has meant that the public does not even
realize how frequently the CIA has failed. In the field of
classical espionage, the CI A"s Clandestine Services have been
singularly unsuccessful in their attempts to penetrate or spy
on the major targets. The Penkovsky case in the early 1960s,
the only espionage operation against the Soviets that the
agency can point to with pride, with a fortuitous windfall
which British Intelligence made possible for the CIA. The
loudly heralded Berlin tunnel operation of the mid-1950s —
actually a huge telephone wiretap — produced literally tons
of trivia and gossip, but provided little in the way of high-
grade secret information that could be used by the agency's
intelligence analysts. The operation's true value was the
embarrassment it caused the KGB and the favorable public-
ity it generated for the CIA. Against China, there have been
no agent-related espionage successes whatever.

Fortunately for the United States, however, the CIA's
technical experts, working with their counterparts in the
Pentagon and in the private sector, have been able over the
years to develop a wide array of electronic methods for
collecting much useful information on the U.S.S.R. and
China. From these collection systems, supplemented by ma-
terial accumulated through diplomatic channels and open
sources (newspapers, magazines, and so on), the analysts in
the CIA and elsewhere in the intelligence community have
been able to keep abreast of developments within the com-
munist powers.

TTie CIA's Clandestine Services have fared better in the
area of counterespionage than in classical espionage. But
here, too, the gains have been largely fortuitous. Most of the
successes were not scored by spies, but secured through the
good offices of defectors who, in return for safety, provided
whatever information they possessed. And one must sub-
tract from even these limited achievements the misinforma-
tion passed on by "deceptions" — double agents sent out or
"surfaced" by the opposition to defect to, and confuse, the
CIA.

The Cull of Intelligence

9

In its favorite field of operational endeavor, covert action,
the agency has enjoyed its greatest degree of success, but its
blunders and failures have caused much embarrassment to
the United States. Clearly, the CIA played a key role in
keeping Western Europe free of communism in the early
Cold War period, although it sadly erred in its attempts to
roll back the Iron and Bamboo curtains in the late 1940s and
in the 1950s. And it did perform successfully, if questionably,
in the effort to contain the spread of communism elsewhere
in the world. Some of its "victories," however, have since
come back to haunt the U.S. government. One cannot help
but wonder now if it might not have been wiser for the CIA
not to have intervened in Guatemala or Cuba or Chile, not
to have played its clandestine role in Iran or elsewhere in the
Middle East, not to have become so deeply involved in the
affairs of Southeast Asia, particularly Indochina. But the
agency did, and our nation will -have to live with the conse-
quences of those actions.

When its clandestine activities are criticized, the CIA's
leadership often points with disingenuous pride to the work
of the intelligence analysts. But here, too, the agency's rec-
ord is spotty. Its many errors in estimating Soviet and
Chinese strategic military capabilities and intentions have
been a constant source of aggravation to government officials.
Often, however, it has accurately judged the dangers and
consequences of U.S. involvement in the Third World, espe-
cially Southeast Asia and Latin America. Ironically, the
clandestine operatives who control the agency rely little on
the views of the analysts within their own organization, and
the White House staff functionaries tend to be equally heed-
less of the analysts' warnings. And since the CIA's secret
intelligence is largely retained within the executive branch,
there is of course no opportunity for Congress or others to
use these warnings to question the policies of the administra-
tion and the covert practices of the CIA.

Occasionally, clandestine operations backfire spectacularly
in public — the U-2 shootdown and the Bay of Pigs invasion,
for example — and, further, investigations by journalists and
uncowed members of Congress have in these instances given
the public some idea of what the CIA actually does. Most
recently, investigation of the Watergate scandal has revealed
some of the CIA's covert activities within the United .States,
providing a frightening view of the methods which the agency

10

The CIA and the Cull of I nielli gence

has employed for years overseas. The assistance given the
White House "plumbers" by the CIA and the attempts to
involve the agency in the cover-up have pointed up the
dangers posed to American democracy by an inadequately
controlled secret intelligence organization. As the opportuni-
ties for covert action abroad dwindle and are thwarted,
those with careers based in clandestine methods are increas-
ingly tempted to turn their talents inward against the citizens
of the very nation they profess to serve. Nurtured in the
adversary setting of the Cold War. shielded by secrecy, and
spurred on by patriotism that views dissent as a threat to the
national security, the clandestine operatives of the CIA have
the capability, the resources, the experience — and the
inclination — to ply their skills increasingly on the domestic
scene.

There can be no doubt that the gathering of intelligence is a
necessary function of modern government. It makes a signifi-
cant contribution to national security, and it is vital to the
conduct of foreign affairs. Without an effective program to
collect information and to analyze the capabilities and possi-
ble intentions of other major powers, the United States
could neither have confidently negotiated nor could now
abide by the S.A.L.T. agreements or achieve any measure
of true diienie with its international rivals. The proven bene-
fits of intelligence are not in question. Rather, it is the illegal
and unethical clandestine operations carried out under the
guise of intelligence and the dubious purposes to which they
are often put by our government that are questionable —
both on moral grounds and in terms of practical benefit to
the nation.

The issue at hand is a simple one of purpose. Should the
CIA function in the way it was originally intended to — as a
coordinating agency responsible for gathering, evaluating,
and preparing foreign intelligence of use to governmental
policy-makers — or should it be permitted to function as it
has done over the years — as an operational arm, a secret
instrument of the Presidency and a handful of powerful men,
wholly independent of public accountability, whose chief
purpose is interference in the domestic affairs of other na-
tions (and perhaps our own) by means of penetration agents,
propaganda, covert paramilitary interventions, and an array
of other dirty tricks?

The Cull of Intelligence

II

The aim of this book is to provide the American people
with the inside information which they need — and to which
they without question have the right — to understand the
signiflcance of this issue and the importance of dealing with
it.

2.

THE CLANDESTINE THEORY

For some lime 1 have been disturbed by the way
CIA has been diverted from its original assignment.
It has become an operational arm and at limes a
policy-making arm of the Government.

— PRh.SlDENT HARRY 5 THLMAN

December 1%3

/ don't see why ive need in stand by and watch a country go
Communist due to the irresponsibility of its own people.

Henry Kissinger made that statement not in public, but at a
secret White House meeting on June 27, 197U. The country
he was referring to was Chile.

In his capacity as Assistant to the President for National
Security Affairs, Kissinger was chairman of a meeting of the
so-called 40 Committee, an interdepartmental panel responsi-
ble for overseeing the CIA's high-risk covert-action operations.
The 40 Committee's members are the Director of Central
Intelligence, the Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs,
the Deputy Secretary of Defense, and the Chairman of the
Joint Chiefs of Staff. (At the time of the Chilean meeting.
Attorney General John Mitchell was also a member.) It is
this small group of bureaucrats and politicians — in close
consultation with the President and the governmental depart-
ments the men represent — that directs America's secret for-
eign policy.

On that Saturday in June 1970, the main topic before the
40 Committee was: Whal, if any, secret actions should be
taken to prevent the election of Salvador Allende? The
Chilean election was scheduled for the following September,
and Allende, a declared Marxist, was one of the principal
candidates. Although Allende had pledged to maintain the
democratic system if he was elected, the U.S. ambassador to
Chile, Edward Korry, predicted dire consequences in the
event of an Allende victory. Korry feared Allende would
lead his country into the Communist bloc, and thus he strongly

The Clandestine Theory

13

favored CIA iniervention to make sure that Chile did not
become another Cuba.

Most of the American companies with large investments
in Chile were also fearful of a possible Allende triumph, and
at least two of those companies, the International Telephone
and Telegraph Corporation (ITT) and Anaconda Copper,
were spending substantial sums of money to prevent his
election.

Ambassador Korry's superiors at the State Department in
Washington opposed the idea of CIA intervention. They
believed that the interests of the United States would best be
served if events in Chile were allowed to follow their natural
course. They hoped that Allende would not win, but they
opposed active — even if secret — American intervention against
him. T o try to manipulate the Chilean electoral processes,
believed the Stale group led by Assistant Secretary for Latin
America Charles Meyer, would likely succeed only in mak-
ing matters worse and further tarnishing America's image in
Latin America.

Richard Helms, then director of the CIA, represented a
somewhat divided Agency. On the one hand, the 40 Commit-
tee was that day considering plans for covert intervention
which had been drawn up by the Agency's Clandestine
Services;* and like the American ambassador, the CIA's
principal representative in Chile strongly supported covert
action to keep Allende out of office. But, on the other hand,
there was a lack of confidence among senior CIA officials
that secret agency funding and propaganda would have the
desired effea. They were concerned that a large influx of
CIA money might lead to discovery of the agency's role by
the Chilean press — perhaps with help from the Soviet
KGB — or by American reporters, and that such disclosures
would only help Allende.

Helms' position at the 40 Committee meeting was influ-
enced by memories of the Chilean presidential election of
1964. At that time he had been chief of the Clandestine
Services and had been actively involved in planning the
CIA's secret efforts to defeat Allende, who was then run-

*The official name for this pan of ihe CIA is the Directorate of Operaiions
(until early 1973 Ihe Directorate of Plans), hut it Is more appropriately re-
ferred to within the agency as the Clandestine Services. Some members of
Congress and certain journalists call it the "Department of Dirty Tricks." a
title never used by CIA personnel.

14

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

ning against Eduardo Frei.* Frei had won the Presidency,
but now, six years later, he was constitutionally forbidden to
succeed himself, and Allende's candidacy therefore seemed
stronger than before.

Anti-American feelings had grown in Chile since 1964, and
one reason was widespread resentment of U.S. interference
in Chile's internal affairs. The Chilean leftist press had been
full of charges of CIA involvement in the 1964 elections, and
these reports had not been without effect on the electorate.
Additionally, in 1965 the exposure of the Pentagon's ill-advised
Project Camelot had further damaged the reputation of the
U.S. government. Ironically, Chile was not one of the princi-
pal target countries of the Camelot project, a multimillion-
dollar social-science research study of possible counterin-
surgency techniques in Latin America. But the existence of
Camelot had Hrst been made public in Chile, and newspapers
there — of all political stripes — condemned the study as
"intervention" and "imperialism." One paper said, in prose
typical of the general reaction, that Project Camelot was
"intended to investigate the military and political situation
prevailing in Chile and to determine the possibility of an
anti-democratic coup." Politicians of both President Frei's
Christian Democratic Party and Allende's leftist coalition
protested publicly. TTie final result was to cause Washington
to cancel first Camelot's limited activities in Chile, and then
the project as a whole. While the CIA had not been a
sponsor of Camelot, the project added to the fears among
Chileans of covert American intelligence activities.

In 1968 the CIA's own Board of National Estimates, after
carefully studying the socio-political problems of Latin
America, had produced a National Intelligence Estimate on
that region for the U.S. government's planners and policy-
makers. The central conclusion had been thai forces for
change in the developing Latin nations were so powerftil as
to be beyond outside manipulation. This estimate had been

'Nine years later Laurence Stern of the WasUngion Post finally exposed the
CIA's massive clandestine effort in the l%4 Chilean election. He quoted a
strategically placed U.S. intelligence official as saying, "U.S. government
intervention in Chile was blatant and almost obscene." Stern reported that
both the State Department and the Agency for International Development
cooperated with the CIA in funneling up to S2n million into the country, and
that one conduit for the funds was an ostensibly private organization called
the International Development Foundation.

The Clandestine Theory

15

endorsed by the United States Intelligence Board, whose
members include the heads of the government's various intel-
ligence agencies, and had then been sent to the White House
and to those departments that were represented on the 40
Committee.

The 1968 estimite had in efTect urged against the kind of
intervention that the 40 Committee was in 1970 considering
with regard to Chile. But as is so often the case within the
government, the most careful advance analysis based on all
the intelligence available was either ignored or simply re-
jected when the time came to make a decision on a specific
issue.

4Vi LINES DELETED

Henry Kissinger, the single most powerful man at the 40
Committee meeting on Chile, clearly wanted to intervene.
Kissinger was also concerned about the need for absolute
secrecy and the near impossibility of hiding massive Ameri-
can involvement. He, too. knew that discovery would work
to Allende's advantage. So at Kissinger's urging, the 40
Commillee agreed thai the CIA would carry out a relatively
modest $400,000 program of secret propaganda and support
for Allende's opponents. While CIA men and money would
be brought into play to prevent an Allende victory, there
would be no repeat of the agency's massive effort to fix the
election in 1964.

Within the next few days. President i\iron endorsed the 40
Committee's decision, and the American ambassador and the
CIA chief of station in Chile were notified to start the covert
propaganda programs.

Ambassador Korry reacted to the go-ahead from Washing-
ton by sending a cable back to Assistant Secretary Meyer
through "Roger, " a communication channel, which, at least
in theory, only the Stale Department could decipher. Korry
knew that Meyer had actively- apposed his recommendation
for intervention, and Korry staled in the cable that he would
not begin the anti-Allende compaign without the direct ap-
proval o f Meyer, his nominal superior. Since the decision to
intervene had been approved by the President of the United
States . . . Meyer was forced to send a message back to Korry
stating that his own views were irrelevant since "higher
authority" had given its blessing to the project.

16

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

In keeping with the guidelines set down by the 40 Commit-
tee and approved by the President, four hundred thousand
dollars were made available from the CIA director's secret
contingency fund and earmarked for the Chilean election
operation. The agency's chief of station in Santiago, work-
ing with the close cooperation of Ambassador Korry, put the
money and his undercover agents to work in a last-minute
propaganda effort to thwart the rise of Allende to the
Presidency. But despite the CIA's covert action program,
Salvador Allende received a plurality in the September 1970
popular vote.

During the next two months, before Allende was oincially
endorsed as President by the Chilean congress, the CIA and
Ambassadftr Korry, with White House approval, tried desper-
ately to prevent the Marxist from taking office. Attempts
were made to undercut Allende through continued propa-
ganda, by encouraging a military coup d'etat, and by trying
to enlist the support of private U.S. firms, namely ITT, in a
scheme to sabotage Chile's economy. Sane of the secret
actions, however, proved successful.

Some months afterward President Nixon disingenuously
explained at a While House press conference: "As far as
what happened in Chile is concerned, we can only say that
for the United States to have intervened in a free election
and to have turned it around, I think, would have had
repercussions all around Latin America that would have
been far worse than what happened in Chile."

The following year, in the fall of 1972, CIA Director Helms,
while giving a rare public lecture at Johns Hopkins University,
was asked by a student if the CIA had mucked about in the
1970 Chilean election. His response: "Why should you care?
Your side won."

Helms was understandably perturbed. Columnist Jack
Anderson had only recently reported "the ITT story," which
among other things revealed that the CIA had indeed been
involved in an effort to undo Allende's victory — even after
he had won the popular vote. Much to the agency's chagrin,
Anderson had shown that during September and October
1970, William Broe, chief of the Western Hemisphere Divi-
sion of the CIA's Clandestine Services, had met several
times with high officials of ITT to discuss ways to prevent
Allende from taking office. (The ITT board member who
later admitted to a Senate investigative committee that he

The Clandestine Theory

17

had played the key role in bringing together CIA and ITT
officials was John McCone, Director of the CIA during the
Kennedy administration and, in 1970, a CIA consultant.)
Broe had proposed to ITT and a few other American corpo-
rations with substantial financial interests in Chile a four-
part plan of economic sabotage which was calculated to
weaken the local economy to the point where the Chilean
military authorities would move to take over the government
and thus frustrate the Marxist's rise to power. ITT and the
other firms later claimed they ttad found the CIA's scheme
"not workable." But almost three years to the day after
Allende's election, at a time when severe inflation, truckers'
strikes, food shortages, and international credit problems
were plaguing Chile, he was overthrown and killed in a
bloody coup d'ftat carried out by the combined action of the
Chilean armed services and national police. His Marxist
government was replaced by a military junta What role
American businesses or the CIA may have played in the
coup is not publicly known, and may never be. ITT and the
other giant corporations with investments in Chile have all
denied any involvement in the military revolt. So has the
U.S. government, although CIA Director William Colby
admitted in secret testimony before the House Foreign Af-
fairs Committee (revealed by Tad Szulc in the October 21,
1973, Washington Post) that the agency "had some intelli-
gence coverage about the various moves being made," that
it had "penetrated" all of Chile's major political parties, and
that it had secretly furnished "some assistance" to certain
Chilean groups. Colby, himself the former director of the
bloody Phoenix counterintelligence program in Vietnam, also
told the Congressmen that the executions carried out by the
junta after the coup had done "some good" because they
reduced the chances that civil war would break out in
Chile — an excellent example of the sophistry with which the
CIA defends its strategy of promoting "stability" in the
Third World.

Even if the CIA did not intervene directly in the final
putsch, the U.S. government as a whole did take a series of
actions designed to undercut the Allende regime. Henry
Kissinger set the tone of the official U.S. position at a
background press conference in September 1970, when he
said that Allende's Marxist regime would contaminate
Argentina, Bolivia, and Peru — a stretch of the geopolitical

18

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

imagination reminiscent of the Southeast Asian domino theory.
Another measure of the White Mouse attitude — and an
indication of the methods it was willing to use — was the
burglarizing of the Chilean embassy in Washington in May
1972 by some of the same men who the next month staged
the break-in at the Watergate. And the U.S. admittedly
worked to undercut the Allende government by cutting off
most economic assistance, discouraging private lines of credit,
and blocking loans by international organizations. State De-
partment officials testifying before Congress after the coup
explained it was the Nixon administration's wish that the
Allende regime collapse economically, thereby discrediting
socialism.

Henry Kissinger has dismissed speculation among journal-
ists and members of Congress that the CIA helped along this
economic collapse and then engineered Allende's downfall;
privately he has said that the secret agency wasn't competent
to manage an operation as difficult as the Chilean coup.
Kissinger had already been supervising the CIA's most se-
cret operations for more than four years when he made this
disparaging remark. Whether he was telling the truth about
the CIA's non-involvement in Chile or was simply indulging
in a bit of official lying (called "plausible denial"), he along
with the President would have made the crucial decisions on
the Chilean situation. For the CIA is not an independent
agency in the broad sense of the term, nor is it a governmen-
tal agency out of control. Despite occasional dreams of
grandeur on the part of some of its clandestine operators,
the CIA does not on its own choose to overthrow distasteful
governments or determine which dictatorial regimes to
support. Just as the State Department might seek, at the
President's request, to discourage international aid institu-
tions from offering loans to "unfriendly" governments, so
does the CIA act primarily when called upon by the Executive.
The agency's methods and assets are a resource that come
with the office of the Presidency.

Thus, harnessing the agency's clandestine operations is
not the full, or even basic, solution to the CIA problem. The
key to the solution is controlling and requiring accountability
of those in the White House and elsewhere in the govern-
ment who direct or approve, then hide behind, the CIA and
its covert operations. This elusiveness, more than anything
else, is the problem posed by the CIA.

The Clandestine Theory

19

Intelligence Versus Covert Action

The primary and proper purpose of any national intelligence
organization is to produce "finished intelligence" for the
government's policy-makers. Such intelligence, as opposed
to the raw information acquired through espionage and other
clandestine means, is data collected from all sources — secret,
official, and open — which has been carefully collated and
analyzed by substantive experts, specifically to meet the
needs of the national leadership. The process is difficult,
time-consuming, and by no means without error. But it is
the only prudent alternative to naked reliance on the unrelia-
ble reporting of spies. Most intelligence agencies, however,
are nothing more than secret services, more fascinated by
the clandestine operations — of which espionage is but one
aspect — than they are concerned with the production of
"finished intelligence." The CIA, unfortunately, is no excep-
tion to this rule. Tactics that require the employment of
well-placed agents, the use of money, the mustering of merce-
nary armies, and a variety of other covert methods designed
to influence directly the policies (or determine the life-spans)
of foreign governments — such are the tactics that have come
to dominate the CIA. This aspect of the modern intelligence
business — intervention in the affairs of other countries — is
known at the agency as covert action.

The United States began engaging in covert-action opera-
tions in a major way during World War II. Taking lessons
from the more experienced British secret services, the Office
of Strategic Services (OSS) learned to use covert action as
an offensive weapon against Germany and Japan. When the
war ended. President Truman disbanded the OSS on the
grounds that such wartime tactics as paramilitary operations,
psychological warfare, and political manipulation were not
acceptable when the country was at peace. At the same
time, however, Truman recognized the need for a perma-
nent organization to coordinate and analyze all the intelli-
gence available to the various governmental departments.
He believed that if there had been such an agency within the
U.S. government in 1941, it would have been "difficult, if not
impossible" for the Japanese to attack Pearl Harbor suc-
cessfully.

It was, therefore, with "coordination of information" in
mind that Truman proposed the creation of the CIA in 1947.

20 The CIA and the Cult of Iruelligence

Leading the opposition to Truman's "limited" view of
intelligence, Allen Dulles stated, in a memorandum pre-
pared for the Senate Armed Services Committee, that
"Intelligence work in time of peace will require other
techniques, other personnel, and will have rather different
objectives. . . . We must deal with the problem of conflicting
ideologies as democracy faces communism, not only in the
relations between Soviet Russia and the countries of the
west but in the internal political conflicts with the countries
of Europe, Asia, and South America." It was Dulles — ^to
become CIA director six years later — who contributed to the
eventual law the clause enabling the agency to carry out
"such other functions and duties related to intelligence as
the National Security Council may from time to time direct."
It was to be the fulcrum of the CIA's power.

Although fifteen years later Truman would claim that he
had not intended the CIA to become the covert-action arm
of the U.S. government, it was he who, in 1948, authorized
the first postwar covert-action program, although he did not
at first assign the responsibility to the CIA. Instead he
created a largely separate organization called the Office of
Policy Coordination (OPC), and named a former OSS man,
Frank G. Wisner, Jr., to be its chief. Truman did not go to
Congress for authority to form OPC. He did it with a stroke
of the presidential pen, by issuing a secret National Security
Council Intelligence directive, NSC 10/2. (The CIA provided
OPC with cover and support, but Wisner reported directly
to the secretaries of State and Defense.) Two years later,
when General Walter Bedell Smith became CIA director, he
moved to consolidate all major elements of national intelli-
gence under his direct control. As part of this effort, he
sought to bring Wisner's operations into the CIA. Truman
eventually concurred, and on January 4, 19S1, OPC and the
Office of Special Operations (a similar semi-independent
organization established in 1948 for covert intelligence col-
lection) were merged into the CIA, forming the Directorate
of Plans or, as it became known in the agency, the Clandes-
tine Services. Allen Dulles was appointed first chief of the
Clandestine Services; Frank Wisner was his deputy.

With its newly formed Clandestine Services and its involve-
ment in the Korean war, the agency expanded rapidly. From
less than 5,000 employees in 1950, the CIA grew to about
15,000 by 1955 — and recruited thousands more as contract

The Clandestine Theory

21

employees and foreign agents. During these years the agency
spent well over a billion dollarr; to strengthen non-communist
governments in Western Europe, to subsidize political parties
around the world, to found Radio Free Europe and Radio
Liberty for propaganda broadcasts to Eastern Europe, to
make guerrilla raids into mainland China, to create the Asia
Foundation, to overthrow leftist governments in Guatemala
and Iran, and to carry out a host of other covert-action
programs.

While the agency considered most of its programs to have
been successful, there were more than a few failures. Two
notable examples were attempts in the late 1940s to establish
guerrilla movements in Albania and in the Ukraine, in keep-
ing with the then current national obsession of "rolling back
the Iron Curtain." Almost none of the agents, funds, and
equipment infiltrated by the agency into those two countries
was ever seen or heard from again.

In the early 1950s another blunder occurred when the CIA
tried to set up a vast underground apparatus in Poland for
espionage and, ultimately, revolutionary purpKJses. llie opera-
tion was supported by millions of dollars in agency gold
shipped into Poland in installments. Agents inside Poland,
using radio broadcasts and secret writing techniques, main-
tained regular contact with their CIA case officers in West
Germany. In fact, the agents continually asked that addi-
tional agents and gold be sent to aid the movement.
Occasionally an agent would even slip out of Poland to report
on the operation's progress — and ask for still more agents
and gold. It took the agency several years to leam that the
Polish secret service had almost from the first day co-opted
the whole network, and that no real CIA underground opera-
tion existed in Poland. The Polish service kept the operation
going only to lure anti-communist Polish emigres back home —
and into prison. And in the process the Poles were able to
bilk the CIA of millions of dollars in gold.

One reason, perhaps the most important, that the agency
tended from its very beginnings to concentrate largely on
covert-action operations was the fact that in the area of
traditional espionage (the collection of intelligence through
spies) and CIA was able to accomplish Itttle against the
principal enemy, the Soviet Union. With its closed society,
the U.S.S.R. proved virtually impenetrable. The few Ameri-
can intelligence officers entering the country were severely

22

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

limited in their movements and closely followed. The Soviet
Union's all-pervasive internal security system made the re-
cruitment of agents and the running of clandestine operations
next to impossible. Similar difficulties were experienced by
the CIA in Eastern Europe, but to a lesser degree. The
agency's operators could recruit agents somewhat more eas-
ily there, but strict security measures and efficient secret-
police establishments still greatly limited successes.

Nevertheless, there were occasional espionage coups, such
as the time CIA operators found an Eastern European com-
munist official able to provide them with a copy of Khru-
shchev's 1956 de-Stalinization speech, which the agency then
arranged to have published in the New York Times. Or,
from time to time, a highly knowledgeable defector would
bolt to the West and give the agency valuable information.
Such defectors, of course, usually crossed over of their own
volition, and not because of any ingenious methods used by
the CIA. A former chief of the agency's Gandestine Services,
Richard Bissell, admitted years later in a secret discussion
with selected members of the Council on Foreign Relations:
"In practice however espionage has been disappointing. . . .
The general conclusion is that against the Soviet bloc or
other sophisticated societies, espionage is not a primary source
of intelligence, although it has had occasional brilliant
successes."'

It had been Bissell and his boss Allen Dulles who by the
mid-19S0s had come to realize that if secret agents could not
do the job, new ways would have to be found to collect
intelligence on the U.S.S.R. and the other communist
countries. Increasingly, the CIA turned to machines to per-
form its espionage mission. By the end of the decade, the
agency had developed the U-2 spy plane. This high-altitude
aircraft, loaded with cameras and electronic listening devices,
brought back a wealth of information about Soviet defenses
and weapons. Even more important was communications
intelligence (COMINT), electronic transmissions monitored
at a cost of billions of dollars by the Defense Department's
National Security Agency (NSA).

Both Bissell and Dulles, however, believed that the suc-

'This ind all suhscquent quotes from Ihe Bissell speech come from the official
minutes of the meeting. The minutes do not quote Bissell directly but. rather,
paraphrase his remarks.

The Clandestine Theory

23

cessful use of human assets was at the heart of the intelli-
gence craft. Thus, it was clear to them that if the Clandestine
Services were to survive in the age of modern technical
espionage, the agency's operators would have to expand
their covert-action operations — particularly in the internal
affairs of countries where the agency could operate clandes-
tinely.

In the immediate postwar years. CIA covert-action pro-
grams had been concentrated in Europe, as communist ex-
pansion into Western Europe seemed a real threat. The Red
Army had already occupied Eastern Europe, and the war-
ravaged countries of the West, then trying to rebuild shat-
tered economics, were particularly vulnerable. Consequently,
the CIA subsidized political parties, individual leaders, labor
unions, and other groups, especially in West Germany, France,
and Italy. It also supported Eastern European emigre groups
in the West as part of a program to organize resistance in the
communist countries. "There were so many CIA projects at
the height of the Cold War," wrote columnist Tom Braden
in January 1973, "that it was almost impossible for a man to
keep them in balance." Braden spoke from the vantage
point of having himself been the CIA division chief in charge
of many of these programs. By the end of the 1950s, however,
pro-American governments had become firmly established
in Western Europe, and the U.S. government, in effect, had
given up the idea of "rolling back the Iron Curtain."

Thus, the emphasis within the Clandestine Services shifted
toward the Third World. This change reflected to a certain
extent the CIA's bureaucratic need as a secret agency to find
areas where it could be successful. More important, the shift
came as a result of a hardened determination that the United
States should protect the rest of the world from communism.
A cornerstone of that policy was secret intervention in the
internal affairs of countries particularly susceptible to social-
ist movements, either democratic or revolutionary. Years
later, in a letter to Washington Post correspondent Chalmers
Roberts, Allen Dulles summed up the prevailing attitude of
the times. Referring to the CIA's coups in Iran and Guate-
mala, he wrote: "Where there begins to be evidence that a
country is slipping and Communist takeover is threatened
. . . we can't wait for an engraved invitation to come and
give aid."

The agency's orientation toward covert action was quite

24

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

obvious to young officers taking operational training during
the mid-l9S0s at "The Farm," the CIA's West Point, located
near Williamsburg, Virginia, and operated under the cover
of a military ba-se called Camp Peary. Most of the methods
and techniques taught there at that time applied to covert
action rather than traditional espionage, and to a great ex-
tent training was oriented toward such paramilitary activities
as infiltration/exfiltration, demolitions, and nighttime para-
chute jumps. Agency officers, at the end of their formal
clandestine education, found that most of the job openings
were on Covert Action Staff and in the Special Operations
Divsion (the CIA's paramilitary component). Assignments
to Europe became less coveted, and even veterans with
European experience were transferring to posts in the emerg-
ing nations, especially in the Far East.

Tlie countries making up the Third World offered far
more tempting targets for covert action than those in Europe.
These nations, underdeveloped and often corrupt, seemed
made to order for the clandestine operators of the CIA,
Richard Bissell told the Council on Foreign Relations: "Simply
because [their] governments are much less highly organized
there is less security consciousness; and there is apt to be
more actual or potential diffusion of power among parties,
localities, organizations, and individuals outside the central
government." And in the frequent power struggles within
such governments, all factions are grateful for outside
assistance. Relatively small sums of money, whether deliv-
ered directly to local forces or deposited (for their leaders)
in Swiss bank accounts, can have an almost magical effect in
changing volatile political loyalties. In snrh an atmosphere,
the CIA's Clandestine Services have over the years enjoyed
considerable success.

Swashbucklers and Secret Wars

During the 1950s most of the CIA's covert-action operations
were not nearly so sophisticated or subtle as those Bissell
would advocate in 1968. Nor were they aimed exclusively at
the rapidly increasing and "less highly organized" govern-
ments of the Third World. Covert operations against the
communist countries of Europe and Asia continued, but the
emphasis was on clandestine propaganda, infiltration and
manipulation of youth, labor, and cultural organizations.

The Clandestine Theory

25

and the like. The more heavy-handed activities — paramilitary
operations, coups, and countercoups — were now reserved
for the operationally ripe nations of Asia, Africa, and Latin
America.

Perhaps the prototype for CIA covert operations during
the 1950s was the work of Air Force Colonel Edward Lansdale.
His exploits under agency auspices, first in the Philippines
and then in Vietnam, became so well known that he served
as the model for characters in two best-selling novels, The
Ugly American by William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick,
and The Quiei American by Graham Greene. In the former,
he was a heroic figure: in the latter, a bumbling fool.

Lansdale was sent to the Philippines in the early 1950s as
advisor to Philippine Defense Minister (later President) Ram6n
Magsaysay in the struggle against the ttuks, the local commu-
nist guerrillas. Following Lansdale's counsel. Magsaysay
prompted social development and land reform to win sup-
port of the peasantry away from the Huks. But Lansdale,
backed up by millions of dollars in secret U.S. government
funds, took the precaution of launching other, less conven-
tional schemes. One such venture was the establishment of
the Filipino Civil Affairs Office, which was made responsible
for psychological warfare.

After a 1972 interview with Lansdale, now living in quiet
retirement, journalist Stanley Karnow reported:

One [Lansdale-initiated] psywar operation played on
the superstitious dread in the Philippine countryside of
the asuang, a mythical vampire. A psywar squad en-
tered an area, and planted rumors that an asuang lived
on where the Communists were based. Two nights later,
after giving the rumors time to circulate among Huk
sympathizers, the psywar squad laid an ambush for the
rebels. When a Huk patrol passed, the ambushers
snatched the last man, punctured his neck vampire-
fashion with two holes, hung his body until the blood
drained out, and put the corpse back on the trail. As
superstitious as any other Filipinos, the insurgents fled
from the region.

With Magsaysay's election to the Philippine Presidency in
1953, Lansdale returned to Washington. In the eyes of the
U.S. government, his mission had been an unquestioned

26

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

success: the threat of a communist takeover in the Phihp-
pines had been eliminated.

A year later, after Vietnam had been provisionally split in
two by the Geneva Accords, Lansdale was assigned to South
Vietnam to bolster the regime of Ngo Dinh Diem. He quickly
became involved in organizing sabotage and guerrilla opera-
tions against North Vietnam, but his most effective work
was done in the South. There he initiated various psycho-
logical-warfare programs and helped Diem in eliminating
his political rivals. His activities, extensively described in
the Pentagon Papers, extended to pacification programs,
military training, even political consultation: Lansdale helped
design the ballots when Diem formally ran for President of
South Vietnam in 1955. He used red, the Asian goodluck
color, for Diem and green — signifying a cuckold — for Diem's
opponent. Diem won with an embarrassingly high 98 percent
of the vote, and Lansdale was widely credited within Ameri-
can government circles for having carried out another suc-
cessful operation. He left Vietnam soon afterward.

Meanwhile, other agency operators, perhaps less cele-
brated than Lansdale, were carrying out covert-action pro-
grams in other countries. Kermit Roosevelt, of the Oyster
Bay Roosevelts, master-minded the 1953 putsch that over-
threw Iran's Premier Mohammed Mossadegh. The Guate-
mala coup of 1954 was directed by the CIA. Less successful
was the attempt to overthrow Indonesian President Sukarno
in the late 19SOs. Contrary to deniab by President Eisen-
hower and Secretary of State Dulles, the CIA gave direct
assistance to rebel groups located on the Island of Sumatra.
Agency B-26s even carried out bombing missions in support
of the insurgents. On May 18, 1958, the Indonesians shot
down one of these B-26s and captured the pilot, an Ameri-
can named Allen Pope. Although U.S. government officials
claimed that Pope was a "soldier of fortune," he was in fact
an employee of the CIA-owned proprietary company, Civil
Air Transport. Within a few months after being released
from prison four years later. Pope was again flying for the
CIA — this time with Southern Air Transport, an agency
proprietary airline based in Miami.

As the Eisenhower years came to an end, there still was a
national consensus that the CIA was justified in taking al-
most any action in that "back alley" struggle against
communism — this despite Eisenhower's clumsy effort to lie

The Clandestine Theory

27

his way out of the U-2 shootdown. which lying led to the
cancellation of the 1960 summit conference. Most Americans
placed the CIA on the same above-politics level as the FBI,
and it was no accident that President-elect Kennedy chose to
announce on the same day that both J. Edgar Hoover and
Allen Dulles would be staying on in his administration.

It took the national shock resulting from the abortive Bay
of Pigs invasion in 1961 to bring about serious debate over
CIA operations — among high government officials and the
public as a whole. Not only had the CIA failed to overthrow
the Castro regime, it had blundered publicly, and the U.S.
government had again been caught lying. For the first time,
widespread popular criticism was directed at the agency.
And President Kennedy, who had approved the risky
operation, came to realize that the CIA could be a definite
liability — to both his foreign policy and his personal political
fortunes — as well as a secret and private asset of the
Presidency. Determined that there would be no repetition of
the Bay of Pigs, Kennedy moved quickly to tighten White
House control of the agency. He reportedly vowed "to splin-
ter the CIA in a thousand pieces and scatter it to the winds."
But the President's anger was evidently more the result of
the agency's failure to overthrow Castro than a reaction to
its methods or techniques. While neither agency funding nor
operations were cut back in the aftermath, the Bay of Pigs
marked the end of what was probably the CIA's Golden
Age. Never again would the secret agency have so totally
free a hand in its role as the clandestine defender of Ameri-
can democracy. Kennedy never carried through on his threat
to destroy the CIA, but he did purge three of the agency's
top officials, and thus made clear the lines of accountability.
If Allen Dulles had seemed in Kennedy's eyes only a few
months earlier to be in the same unassailable category as
J. Edgar Hoover, the Bay of Pigs had made him expendable.
In the fall of 1961 John McCone, a defense contractor who
had formerly headed the Atomic Energy Commission, re-
placed Dulles as CIA Director; within months Major Gen-
eral Marshall "Pat" Carter took over from Major General
Charles Cabell as Deputy Director, and Richard Helms be-
came chief of the Clandestine Services in place of Richard
Bissell.

Kennedy also ordered General Maxwell Taylor, then spe-
cial military advisor to the President and soon to be Chair-

28

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

man of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, to make a thorough study of
U.S. intelligence. Taylor was joined by Attorney General
Robert Kennedy, Dulles, and Naval Chief Admiral Arleigh
Burke. The Taylor committee's report was to a large extent
a critique of the tactics used in — not the goals of — the Bay of
Pigs operation. It did not call for any fundamental restructur-
ing of the CIA, although many outside critics were urging
that the agency's intelligence-collection and analysis func-
tions be completely separated from its covert-action arm.
The committee's principal recommendation was that the CIA
should not undertake future operations where weapons larger
than hand guns would be used.

Taylor's report was accepted, at least in principle, by the
Kennedy administration, but its primary recommendation
was disregarded almost immediately. CIA never shut down
its two anti-Castro operations bases located in southern
Rorida, and agency-sponsored raids against Cuba by exile
groups continued into the mid-1960s, albeit on a far smaller
scale than the Bay of Pigs. The agency also became deeply
involved in the chaotic struggle which broke Qut in the
Congo in the eartj 1960s. CUndestine Service operators
re|[olarly bought and sold Congolese politicians, and the
agency supplied money and arms to the snpporters of Cyril
Adouia and Joseph Mobula. By 1964, the CIA had im-
ported its own mercenaries into the Congo, and the agency's
B-26 bombers, down by Cuban exile pilots — many of whom
were Bay of Pigs veterans — were carrying out regular mis-
sions against insurgent groups.

During these same years American involvement in Viet-
nam expanded rapidly, and the CIA, along with the rest of
the U.S. government, greatly increased the number of its
personnel and programs in that country. Among other
activities, the agency organized guerrilla and small-boat at-
tacks on North Vietnam, armed and controlled tens of thou-
sands of Vietnamese soldiers in irregular units, and set up a
giant intelligence and interrogation system which reached
into every South Vietnamese village.

In neighboring Laos, the CIA actually led the rest of the
U.S. government — at the White House's order — into a mas-
sive American commitment. Although the agency had been
carrying out large-scale programs of political manipulation
and other covert action up to 1962, that year's Geneva agree-
ment prohibiting the presence of foreign troops in Laos

The Clandestine Theory

29

paradoxically opened up the country to the CIA. For almost
from the moment the agreement was signed, the Kennedy
administration decided not to pull back but to expand Ameri-
can programs in Laos. This was justified partly because the
North Vietnamese were also violating the Geneva Accords;
partly because Kennedy, still smarting from his Cuban setback,
did not want to lose another confrontation with the com-
munists; and partly because of the strategic importance placed
on Laos in the then-fashionable "domino theory." Since the
United States did not want to admit that it was not living up
to the Geneva agreement, the CIA — whose members were
not technically "foreign troops" — got the job of conducting
a "secret" war. TUe Laotian operation became one of the
largest and most expensive in the agency's history: more
than 35,UUO opium-growing Meo and other Lao mountain
tribesmen were recruited into the CIA's private army.
L'Armde Clandestine; CIA-hired pilots flew bombing and
supply missions in the agency's own planes; and, finally,
when L'Armee Clandestine became less effective after long
years of war, the agency recruited and financed over 17.000
Thai mercenaries for its war of attrition against the communists.

By the late 1960s, however, many CIA career officers were
expressing opposition to the agency's Laotian and Vietnamese
programs — not because they objected to the Indochina wars
(few did), but because the programs consisted for the most
part of huge, unwieldy, semi-overt paramilitary operations
lacking the sophistication and secrecy that most of the agency's
operators preferred. Furthermore, the wars had dragged on
too long, and many officers viewed them as unwinnable
messes. The agency, therefore, found itself in the awkward
position of being unable to attract sufficient volunteers to
man the field assignments in Vietnam. Consequently, it was
forced to draft personnel from other areas of its clandestine
activity for service in Southeast Asia.

Covert-Action Theory

It was in such an atmosphere of restiveness and doubt, on a
January evening in 1968, that a small group of former intelli-
gence professionals and several other members of the cult of
intelligence met to discuss the role of the CIA in U.S.
foreign policy, not at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia,
but at the Harold Pratt House on Park Avenue — the home

30

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

of the Council on Foreign Relations. The discussion leader
was investment banker C. Douglas Dillon, previously Under
Secretary of State and Secretary of the Treasury; the main
speaker was Richard Bissell, the former chief of the agency's
Clandestine Services, still a consultant to the CIA, and now
a high-ranking executive with the United Aircraft Corporation.
Like most other former agency officials, Bissell was reluc-
tant to make his views on intelligence known to the public,
and the meeting was private.

In 1971. however, as part of an anti-war protest, radical
students occupied the building in Cambridge. Massachusetts,
that houses Harvard University's Center for International
Affairs. Once inside, the protesters proceeded to barricade
the entrances and ransack the flies of faculty members who
worked there. Among the documents they discovered were
the confidential minutes of the January 8, 1968, meeting at
Pratt House. The minutes were not absolutely complete;
Center associate William Harris, who had served as rappor-
teur for the meeting, later admitted privately, after the docu-
ment had been reprinted by the African Research Group,
that it had been partially edited to eliminate particularly
sensitive material. Even so. the purloined version was still
the most complete description of the CIA's covert-action
strategy and tactics ever made available to the outside
world. Aside from a few newspaper articles which appeared
in 1971. however, when it was reprinted by the African
Research Group, the Bissell papter attracted almost no inter-
est from the American news media.

Among the CIA's senior Clandestine Services offlcers. Rich-
ard Bissell was one of a very few who had not spent World
War II in the OSS; in all other respects, he was the ideal
agency professional. A product of Groton and Yale, he had
impeccable Eastern Establishment credentials. Such a back-
ground was not absolutely essential to success in the CIA,
but it certainly helped, especially during the Allen Dulles
years. And Bissellalso had the advantage of scholarly training,
having earned a doctorate in economics and then having
taught the subject at Yale and MIT. He joined the CIA in
1954 and immediately showed a great talent for clandestine
work. By 1958 Dulles had named Bissell head of the Clandes-
tine Services.

At the beginning of the Kennedy administration, Bissell

The Clandestine Theory

31

was mentioned in White House circles as the logical candi-
date to succeed Dulles, who was then near seventy. Brilliant
and urbane, Bissell seemed to fit perfectly, in David
Halberstam's phrase, the "best and the brightest" image of
the New Frontier. But Bissell's popularity with the Kennedy
administration was short-lived, for it was Bissell's Clandes-
tine Services which planned and carried out the Bay of Pigs
invasion of Cuba in April 1961. Bissell's operatives had not
only failed, they were not even successful in inventing and
maintaining a good cover story, or "plausible denial," which
every covert operation is supposed to have and which might
have allowed the Kennedy administration to escape the blame.
Fidel Castro had told the truth to the world about American
intervention in Cuba while the U.S. Secretary of State and
other administration officials had been publicly caught in
outright lies when their agency-supplied cover stories fell
apart. So Kennedy fired the CIA officials who had got him
into the Bay of Pigs, which he himself had approved; Bissell
was forced out along with Dulles and Deputy Director Charles
Cabell.

Bissell's replacement, Richard Helms, despite having been
second in command in the Clandestine Services, had man-
aged to stay remarkably untouched by the Bay of Pigs
operation. Years later a very senior CIA official would still
speak in amazement of the fact that not a single piece of
paper existed in the agency which linked Helms to either the
planning or the actual execution of the Bay of Pigs. This
senior official was not at all critical of Helms, who had been
very much involved in the overall supervision of the operation.
The official simply was impressed by Helms' bureaucratic
skill and good judgment in keeping his signature off the
documents concerning the invasion, even in the planning
stage.

Helms took over from Bissell as Clandestine Services chief
on February 17, 1962, and Bissell was awarded a secret intelli-
gence medal honoring him for his years of service to the
agency. But Bissell remained in close touch with clandestine
programs as a consultant; the CIA did not want to lose the
services of the man who had guided the agency into some of
its most advanced techniques. He had been among the first
during the 1950s to understand the hopelessness of spying
against the Soviets and the Chinese with classic espionage
methods, and hence had pushed the use of modern technol-

32

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

ogy as an intelligence tool. He had been instrumental in the
development of the U-2 plane, which had been among the
CIA's greatest successes until the Powers incident. Bissell
had also promoted, with the technical help of Kelly Johnson
and the so-called Skunk Works development facilities of
Lockheed Aircraft Corp., the A-11, later known as SR-71, a
spy plane that could fly nearly three times the speed of
sound at altitudes even higher than the U-2.

Moreover, Bissell had been a driving force behind the
development of space satellites for intelligence purposes — at
times to the embarrassment of the Air Force. He had quickly
grasped the espionage potential of placing high-resolution
cameras in orbit around the globe to photograph secret
installations in the Soviet Union and China. And due in
great part to the technical advances made by scientists and
engineers working under Bissell, the CIA largely dominated
the U.S. government's satellite reconnaissance programs in
the late 1950s and well into the 1960s. Even today, when the
Air Force has taken over most of the operational aspects of
the satellite programs, the CIA is responsible for many of
the research and development breakthroughs. At the same
time that Bissell was sparking many of the innovations in
overhead reconnaissance, he was guiding the Clandestine
Services into increased emphasis on covert-action progr.ims
in the Third World. It was Bissell who developed and put
into practice much of the theory and technique which be-
came standard operating procedure in the CIA's many inter-
ventions abroad.

Bissell spoke mainly about covert action that January night
in 1%8 at the Council on Foreign Relations in New York,
and the minutes provide a virtual textbook outline of covert
operations. Among his listeners were former CIA officials
Allen Dulles and Robert Amory, Jr., former State Depart-
ment intelligence chief Thomas Hughes, former Kennedy
aide Theodore Sorensen, columnist Joseph Kraft, and four-
teen others.* All those present were men who had spent
most of their lives either in or on the fringes of the
government. They could be trusted to remain discreet about
what they heard.

* A romplctc listing of Ihc pirlicipanls. as well as the available minutes of the
meeting, arc contained in the Appendix. "The Bissell Philosophy."

The Clandesiine Theory

33

Speaking freely to a friendly audience, the former Clandes-
tine Services chief said:

Covert action [is| attempting to influence the internal
affairs of other nations — sometimes called "interven-
tion" — by covert means.

... the technique is essentially that of "penetration,"
including "penetrations" of the sort which horrify classi-
cists of covert operations, with a disregard for the
"standards" and "agent recruitment rules." Many of the
"penetrations" don't take the form of "hiring" but of
establishing a close or friendly relationship (which may
or may not be furthered by the provision of money from
time to time).

Bissell was explaining that the CIA needs to have its own
agents on the inside — i.e., "penetrations" — if it wants to
finance a political party, guide the editorial policy of a news-
paper, or carry off a military coup. CIA clandestine operators
assigned overseas are called case officers, and they recruit and
supervise the "penetrations." Their tour^ of duty are normally
two to three years, and most serve with false titles in American
embassies. Some live under what is called "deep cover" in
foreign countries posing as businessmen, students, newsmen,
missionaries, or other seemingly innocent American visitors.

The problem of Agency operations overseas [Bissell
continued] is frequently a problem for the State Depart-
ment. It tends to be true that local allies find them-
selves dealing always with an American and an official
American — since the cover is almost invariably as a U.S.
government employee. There are powerful reasons for this
practice, and it will always be desirable to have some CIA
personnel housed in the Embassy compound, if only for
local "command post" and communcations requirements.

Nonetheless, it is possible and desirable, although diffi-
cult and time-consuming, to build overseas an apparatus
of unofficial cover. This would require the use or creation
of private organizations, many of the personnel of which
would be non-U. S. nationals, with freer entry into the
local society and less implication for the official U,S.
posture.

34

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

Whatever cover the case officer has. his role is to find
agents willing to work with or for the CIA. His aim is to
penetrate the host government, to leam its inner workings,
to manipulate it for the agency's purposes.

But for the larger and more sensitive interventions [Bissell
went on], the allies must have their own motivation. On
the whole the Agency has been remarkably successful in
finding individuals and instrumentalities with which and
through which it could work in this fashion. Implied in
the requirement for a pre-existing motivation is the
corollary that an attempt to induce the local ally to
follow a course he does not believe in will at least
reduce his effectiveness and may destroy the whole
operation.

Covert action is thus an exercise in seeking out "allies"
willing to cooperate with the CIA, preferably individuals
who believe in the same goals as the agency; at the very
least, people who can be manipulated into belief in these
goals. CIA case officers must be adept at convincing people
that working for the agency is in their interest, and a good
case officer normally will use whatever techniques are re-
quired to recruit a prospect: appeals to patriotism and anti-
communism can be reinforced with flattery, or sweetened
with money and power. Cruder methods involving blackmail
and coercion may also be used, but are clearly less desirable.

For covert action to be most effective, the recruitment and
penetration should be made long before an actual operation
is scheduled. When the U.S. government secretly decides to
provoke a coup in a particular country, it is then too late for
CIA case officers to be looking for local allies. Instead, if
the case officers have been performing their jobs well, they
will have already built up a network of agents in that country's
government, military forces, press, labor unions, and other
important groups; thus there is, in effect, a standing force in
scores of countries ready to serve the CIA when the need
arises. In the interim, many of these agents also serve the
agency by turning over intelligence obtained through their
official positions. This intelligence can often be of tactical
value to the CIA in determining local political power struc-
tures and calculating where covert action would be most
effective. Again, Bissell:

The Clandestine Theory

35

(There is a| need for continuing efforts to develop covert-
action capabilities even where there is no immediate
need to employ them. The central task is that of identify-
ing potential indigenous allies — both individuals and
organizations — making contact with them, and establish-
ing the fact of a community of interest.

This process is called, in intelligence parlance, "building
assets" or developing the operational apparatus. It is a stan-
dard function of all CIA clandestine stations and bases
overseas. And when a case officer is transferred to a new
assignment after several years in a post, he passes on his
network of agents and contacts to his replacement, who will
stay in touch with them as well as search out new "assets"
himself.

Depending on the size and importance of a particular
country, from one to scores of CIA case officers may oper-
ate there; together, their collective "assets" may number in
the hundreds. The planners of any operations will try to
orchestrate the use of the available assets so as to have the
maximum possible effect. Bissell;

Covert intervention is probably most effective in situa-
tions where a comprehensive effort is undertaken with a
number of separate operations designed to support and
complement one another and to have a cumulatively
significant effect.

In fact, once the CIA's case officers have built up their
assets, whether or not the United States will intervene at all
will be based in large part on a judgment of the potential
effectiveness, importance, and trustworthiness of the CIA's
agents or, in Bissell's words, "allies." Yet only case officers
on the scene and, to a lesser extent, their immediate superi-
ors in the United States are in a position to make this
judgment, since only the CIA knows the identity of its
agents. This information is not shared with outsiders or even
widely known inside the agency, where agents are listed by
code names even in top-secret documents. Thus, while the
political decision to intervene must be made in the White
House, it is the CIA itself (through its Clandestine Services)
which supplies the President and his advisors with much of

36 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

the crucial information upon which their decision to inter-
vene is based.

Even if the CIA's reputation for honesty and accurate
assessment were unassailable (which it is not), there would
still be a built-in conflict of interest in the system: the CIA
draws up the intervention plans; the CIA is the only agency
with the specific knowledge to evaluate the merits and the
feasibility of those plans; and the CIA is the action arm
which carries out the plans once they are approved. When
the CIA has its assets in place, the inclination within the
agency is to recommend their use; the form of intervention
recommended will reflect the type of assets which have been
earlier recruited. Further, simply because the assets are
available, the top officials of the U.S. government may well
rely too heavily on the CIA in a real or imagined crisis
situation. To these officials, including the President, covert
intervention may seem to be an easier solution to a particu-
lar problem than to allow events to follow their natural
course or to seek, a tortuous diplomatic settlement. The
temptation to interfere in another country's internal affairs
can be almost irresistible, when the means are at hand.

It is one of the contradictions of the intelligence profession,
as practiced by the CIA, that the views of its substantive
experts — its analysts — do not carry much weight with the
clandestine operators engaging in covert action. The opera-
tors usually decide which operations to undertake without
consulting the analysts. Even when pertinent intelligence
studies and estimates are readily available, they are as often
as not ignored, unless they tend to support the particular
covert-action cause espoused by the operators. Since the days
of the OSS, clandestine operators — especially in the field —
have distrusted the detached viewpoint of analysts not
directly involved in covert action. To ensure against contact
with the analysts (and to reduce interference by high-level
staff members, even those in the Office of the Director)
the operators usually resort to tight operational security —
the "need-to-know" principle — and to bureaucratic decep-
tions when developing or seeking approval of a covert-
action operation. Thus, it is quite possible in the CIA
for the intelligence analysts to say one thing, and for the
covert-action officers to get the authorization to do another.
Although the analysts saw little chance for a successful rebel-
lion against President Sukarno in 19S8, the Clandestine Ser-

The Clandestine Theory

37

vices supported the abortive coup d'eiat. Despite the analysts'
view that Castro's government had the support of the Cuban
people, the agency's operators attempted — and failed — at
the Bay of Pigs to overthrow him. In spite of large doubts on
the part of the analysts for years as to the efficacy of Radio
Free Europe and Radio Liberty, the CIA continued to fund
these propaganda efforts until 1971, when forced by Congress
to withdraw its support. Although the analysts clearly indi-
cated that the wars in Laos and Vietnam were not winnable,
the operational leadership of the CIA never ceased to devise
and launch new programs in support of the local regimes and
in the hope of somehow bringing about victory over the
enemy. The analysts had warned against involvemeni in
Latin American politics, but covert action was attempted
anyway to manipulate the 1964 and 1970 Chilean presiden-
tial elections.

In theory, the dichotomy that exists between the analytical
and clandestine components of the CIA is resolved at the
top of the agency. It is at the Director's level that the CIA's
analytical input is supposed to be balanced against the goals
and rislcs of the covert-action operation. But it does not
always, or even often, work that way. Directors like Allen
Dulles and Richard Helms, both long-time clandestine
operators, tend to allow their affinity for secret operations to
influence their judgment. Even a remote chance of success
was enough to win their approval of a covert-action proposal.
The views of the analysts, if requested at all, and if they
survived the bureaucratic subterfuge of the clandestine
operators, were usually dismissed by the agency's leadership
on the grounds that they were too vague or indecisive for the
purposes of operational planning.

Still, regardless of the preference of the Director of Cen-
tral Intelligence, it is the President or his National Security
Advisor who provides the ultimate direction and grants the
final approval for any significant covert-action program un-
dertaken by the CIA. Often in proposing such a program the
agency's operators are responding solely to a presidential
directive or to orders of the National Security Council. And
always when a CIA covert-action proposal is submitted for
approval, the plans are reviewed by the 40 Committee, the
special interdepartmental group chaired by the President's
National Security Advisor. Thus, the desire of the President
or his advisor to move secretly to influence the internal

38

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

events of another country is frequently the stimulus that
either sparks the CIA into action or permits its operators to
launch a dubious operation. Only then does the apparatus
cet into motion; only then do the analysts become meaningless.
But "only then" means "almost always."

Tactics

In his talk at the Council on Foreign Relations, Bissell listed
eight types of covert action, eight different ways that the
CIA intervenes in the domestic affairs of other nations:

(1) political advice and counsel; (2) subsidies to an
individual; (3) financial support and "technical assistance"
to political parties; (4) support of private organizations,
including labor unions, business firms, cooperatives, etc.;
(S) covert propaganda; (6) "private" trainingof individu-
als and exchange of persons; (7) economic operations;
and (8) paramilitary [or] political action operations de-
signed to overthrow or to support a regime (like the
Bay of Pigs and the program in Laos). These operations
can be classified in various ways: by the degree and type
of secrecy required by their legality, and. perhaps, by
their benign or hostile character.

Bissell's fifth and eighth categories — covert propaganda
and paramilitary operations — are so large, so important, that
they will be discussed at length in later chapters; they are. as
well, somewhat self-defining. But the other six categories
need some explanation at this point.

The first three categories — political advice and counsel,
subsidies to an individual, and flnancial support and techni-
cal assistance to political parties — are usually so closely re-
lated that they are nearly impossible to separate.

8 LINES DELETED

The reporters who covered that affair on April 10, 1971,
apparently failed to notice anything unusual about the guests.
Seated in the State Dining Room at long white tables form-
ing a large E was the usual assortment of foreign dignitaries,
high U.S. government officials, and corporate executives

The Clandesiine Theory

39

who had become fixtures at such occasions during the
Nixon years. The guest list supplied by the White House
Press office gave the titles and positions for almost all
the diners.

19 Vz LINES DELETED

years later, he wzs elected mayor of West Berlin. Through-
out thi.s period,

8 '/> LINES DELETED

He was a hard-working politician in Allied-occupied Berlin,
and his goal of making the Social Democratic party a viable
alternative to communism

15 LINES DELETED

And that evening after dinner, singer Pearl Bailey entertained
the White House crowd in the East Room. The Washington
Post reported the next day that she had "rocked" the White
House. During the same Cold War years . . . the CIA . . .
was also secretly funding and providing technical assistance
. . . to the Christian Democratic parly . . . in Italy. Most of
these payments were terminated in the 1950s, . . .

In certain countries where the CIA has been particularly
active, the agency's chief of station (COS) maintains closer
ties with the head of state than does the U.S. ambassador.
Usually, the ambassador is kept informed of the business
transacted between the COS (who is officially subordinate to
the ambassador) and the head of state (to whom the ambas-
sador is officially accredited as the personal representative of
the President of the United States). But Bissell mentioned
cases in which the CIA's relationship with the local head of
state was so special that the American ambassador was not
informed of any of the details, because either the Secretary
of State or the head of the host government preferred that
the ambassador be kept ignorant of the relationships.

A notable example of such a "special relationship" is Iran,
where a CIA organized coup d'etat restored the Shah to
power in 1953. . . .

Still another example of a country where the CIA enjoys
a special relationship is Nationalist China. In Taiwan, however.

40

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

the CIA's link is not with President Chiang Kai-shek, but
with his son and heir apparent. Premier Chiang Chingkuo.
One former CIA chief of station, Ray Cline, until late 1973
the State Department's Director of Intelligence and Research,
became something of a legend within the Clandestine Ser-
vices because of his frequent all-night drinking bouts with
the younger Chiang.

Over the years, the CIA closely collaborated with the Na-
tionalists . . . to use Taiwan at a base for U-2 flights (flown
over China by Nationalist pilots trained in the United States),
electronic surveillance . . . and such covert action programs as
propaganda and disinformation aimed at China during the
Cultural Revolution

In South Vietnam, Ambassador Ellsworth Bunker insisted
on personally conducting all important meetings with Presi-
dent Thieu; sometimes Bunker was accompanied by the CIA
chief when there was agency business to be discussed. But
there has been another CIA officer in Saigon who has known
Thieu for many years and who has retained access to the
Vietnamese President. According to a former assistant to
Ambassador Bunker, this CIA officer has served as conduit
between Thieu and the American government when a formal
meeting is not desired or when Thieu wishes to float an idea.

41 LINES DELETED

Each man has been thought by the agency to represent a
strong anti-communist force that would maintain stability in
a potentially volatile country.

Generally speaking, the CIA's ties with foreign political
leaders who receive advice and money from the agency are
extremely delicate. The CIA is interested in moving the
leader and, through him, his party and country into policies
to the advantage of the United States. In most countries of
the Third World, the United States policy is usually to
maintain the status quo. so most subsidies are designed to
strengthen the political base of those in power. The foreign
leader who receives money from the CIA is typically further-
ing both his own career and, presumably, what he believes
are the legitimate aims of his country. But even that pre-
sumption is shaky; any politician's ability to rationalize his
actions probably increases once he has made the decision to
accept such funds.

The Clandestine Theory

41

Extensive CIA involvement with private institutions at home
and overseas (Bissell's fourth category of covert-action tactics)
is one of the few aspects of the agency's covert-action effort
to have received a good deal of public attention. The l%7
expose by Ramparts magazine of the CIA's clandestine con-
nections with the National Student Association was quickly
followed by a flurry of articles in the press concerning agency
subsidies to scores of other organizations. Some of these
institutions, particularly those used as conduits for covert
funds, were under direct CIA control. Others simply were
financed by the agency and steered toward policies that it
favored through the manipulation of only a few of the
organization's key personnel. Sam Brown, a former head of
the National Student Association's National Supervisory Pol-
icy Board and later a leader in the 1968 McCarthy campaign
and in the anti-war movement, told David Wise and Thomas
B. Ross that in the case of the NSA, the CIA would select
one or two association officers as its contacts. These officers
were told that they should be aware of certain secrets and
were asked to sign an oath pledging silence. "Then," Brown
said,

they were told. "You are employed by the CIA." At
that point they were trapped, having signed a statement
not to divulge anything. . . . This is the part of the thing
that I found to be most disgusting and horrible. People
were duped into this relationship with the CIA, a rela-
tionship from which there was no out.

Not all the student leaders recruited over the years by the
CIA, however, were displeased with the arrangement. Some
later joined the agency formally as clandestine operatives,
and one rose to become executive assistant to Director Rich-
ard Helms. It was this same man who sometimes posed as an
official of the Agency for International Development to
entrap unsuspecting NSA officers, revealing his "cover" only
after extracting pledges of secrecy and even NSA commit-
ments to cooperate with specific CIA programs.

Tom Braden, who headed the CIA's International Organiza-
tions Division from 1930 to 1954 when that component of the
Clandestine Services was responsible for subsidizing private

42 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

organizations, described his own experiences in a 1967 Saturday
Evening Post article entitled "I'm Glad the CIA is 'Immoral' ":

It was my idea to give the SIS.OOO to Irving Brown [of
the American Federation of Labor). He needed it to
pay off his strong-arm squads in Mediterranean ports,
so that American supplies could be unloaded against the
opposition of Communist dock workers ... At [Victor
Reuther's) request, I went to Detroit one morning and
gave Walter [Reuther] $50,000 in $50 bills. Victor spent
the money, mostly in West Germany, to bolster labor
unions there. . . .

I remember the enormous joy I got when the Boston
Symphony Orchestra won more acclaim for the U.S. in
Paris than John Foster Dulles or Dwight D. Eisenhower
could have bought with a hundred speeches. And then
there was Encounter, the magazine published in En-
gland and dedicated to the proposition that cultural
achievement and political freedom were interdependent.
Money for both the orchestra's tour and the magazine's
publication came from the CIA, and few outside of the
CIA knew about it. We had placed one agent in a
Europe-based organization of intellectuals called the
Congress for Cultural Freedom. Another agent became
an editor of Encounter. The agents could not only pro-
pose anti-Communist programs to the official leaders of
the organizations but they could also suggest ways and
means to solve the inevitable budgetary problems. Why
not see if the needed money could be obtained from
"American foundations"? As the agents knew, the CIA-
financed foundations were quite generous when it came
to the national interest.

The CIA's culture-loving, optimistic, freewheeling operators,
however, made serious tactical errors in funding these
"private" institutions. Over the years, the agency became
involved with so many groups that direct supervision and
accounting were not always possible. Moreover, the agency
violated a fundamental rule of intelligence in not carefully
separating the operations of each organization from all the
others. Thus, when the first disclosures of CIA involvement
were published early in 1%7, enterprising journalists found
that the financing arrangements and the conduit foundations

The Clandestine Theory

43

were so intertwined and over-used that still other groups
which had been receiving CIA funds could be tracked down.
Bissell acknowledged this sloppiness of technique when he
said, "... it is very clear that we should have had greater
compartmenting of operations."

In the aftermath of the disclosures. President Johnson
appointed a special committee consisting of Under Secretary
of State Nicholas Katzenbach as chairman, CIA Director
Richard Helms, and HEW Secretary John Gardner to study
the CIA's relationship with private organizations. On March
29, 1967, the committee unanimously recommended — and the
President accepted as national policy — that: "No federal
agency shall provide any covert financial assistance or support,
direct or indirect, to any of the nation's educational or
private voluntary organizations." The report said that excep-
tions to this policy might be granted in case of "overriding
national security interests." but that no organizations then
being subsidized fitted this category. The Katzenbach com-
mittee noted that it expected the CIA largely, if not entirely,
to terminate its ties with private organizations by the end of
1967.

Yet, a year later Richard Bissell told the Council on
Foreign Relations;

If the Agency is to be effective, it will have to make use
of private institutions on an expanding scale, though
those relations which have "blown" cannot be resurrected.
We need to operate under deeper cover, with increased
attention to the use of "cut-outs" [i.e., intermediaries).
CIA's interface with the rest of the world needs to be
better protected. If various groups hadn't been aware of
the source of their funding, the damage subsequent to
disclosure might have been far less than occurred. The
CIA interface with various private groups, including
business and student groups, must be remedied.

Bissell's comments seemed to be in direct contradiction to
the official U.S. government policy established by the
President. But Bissell, no longer a CIA officer, wasn't chal-
lenging presidential authority, and his audience understood
that, just as it understood what, indeed, the Katzenbach
committee had recommended. Bissell was merely reflecting

rhp a^nt^ra] vipuu wirhi'n rhp PI A nnrl rhp riilr nf inrplliopnrp

44

The CIA and the Cult of Jnielligence

that President Johnson had been pressured by liberals and
the press into taking some action to reduce the agency's
involvement with private groups; that by naming Katzenbach
(then considered by the CIA to be a "friend") as chairman
of the committee and by making CIA Director Helms the
second of its three members, the President was stacking the
deck in the CIA's favor; that the agency certainly could be
criticized for its lack of professional skill in so sloppily fund-
ing the private groups; but that, essentially, the President
did not wish to change appreciably the CIA's covert-action
programs.

Once the Katzenbach report appeared, the CIA arranged
secret exceptions to the much-heralded new policy. Two
CIA broadcasting stations. Radio Free Europe and Radio
Liberty, which together received more than $30 million annu-
ally in CIA funds, were immediately placed outside the
restrictions of the presidential order. And the CIA delayed
withdrawing its support for other organizations whose agency
ties had been exposed until new forms of financing them
could be developed. Thus, as late as 1970 the CIA was still
subsidi/ing a major international youth organization through
a penetration who was one of the organization's ofUcers. In
some cases, "severance payments" were made that could
keep an organization afloat for years.

Although the CIA had been widely funding foreign labor
unions for more than fifteen years and some of the agency's
labor activities were revealed in Tom Braden's Saturday
Evening Post article, the Katzenbach committee did not
specify unions as the type of organizations the CIA was
barred from financing. At the 1968 Council on Foreign Rela-
tions meeting at which Bissell spoke, Meyer Bernstein, the
Steelworkers' Union's Director of International Labor Affairs,
commented:

the turn of events has been unexpected. First, there
hasn't been any real problem with international labor
programs. Indeed, there has been an increase in de-
mand for U.S. labor programs and the strain on our
capacity has been embarrassing. Formerly, these foreign
labor unions knew we were short of funds, but now they
all assume we have secret CIA money, and they ask for
more help.

The Clandestine Theory 45

Worse yet. Vic Reuther, who had been alleging that
others were receiving CIA money, and whose brother's
receipt of 550,000 from CIA in old bills was subse-
quently disclosed by Tom Braden, still goes on with his
charges that the AET--CIO has taken CIA money. Here
again, no one seems to listen. "The net result has been
as close to zero as possible. We've come to accept CIA,
like sin." So, for example, British Guiana's [Guyana]
labor unions were supported through CIA conduits, but
now they ask for more assistance than before. So, our
expectations to the contrary, there has been almost no
damage.

In Vietnam, enthusiastic officials of the U.S. embassy in
Saigon were fond of saying during the late 1960s that Tran
Ngoc Buu was the Samuel Gompers of the Vietnamese labor
movement. They did not say — and most probably did not
know —

4 LINES DELETED

Bissell also identified " 'private' training of individuals
and exchange of persons" as a form of covert action:

Often activities have been initiated through CIA chan-
nels because they could be started more quickly and
informally but do not inherently need to be secret. An
example might be certain exchange-of-persons programs
designed to identify potential political leaders and give
them some exposure to the United States. It should be
noted, however, that many such innocent programs are
more effective if carried out by private auspices than if
supported officially by the United States Government.
They do not need to be covert but if legitimate private
entities such as the foundations do not initiate them,
there may be no way to get them done except by covert
support to "front" organizations.

He was referring to the so-called people-to-people ex-
change programs, most of which are funded openly by the
State Department, the Agency for International Development,
the U.S. Information Agency, and various private organiza-
tions and foundations. But the CIA has also been involved

46 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

to a lesser extent, and has brought foreigners to the United
States with funds secretly supplied to conduit organizations.
Oh occasion, the agency will sponsor the training of foreign
ofTiciais at the facilities of another government agency. A
favorite site is AID'S International Police Academy in
Washington. The academy is operated by AID'S Public Safely
(police) Division, which regularly Knpplies cover to CIA
operators aN over the world. And the CIA takes advantage
of exchange programs to recruit agents. While a systematic
approach is not followed, the agency considers foreigners
visiting the United States to be legitimate targets for
recruitment.

TTie CIA has undertaken comparatively few economic covert-
action programs (Bissell's seventh category) over the years,
preferring the more direct approach of paramilitary opera-
tions or propaganda. And those economic programs attempted
by the agency have not been notably successful. During the
mid-1960s Japanese investors were used in an effort to build
up the South Vietnamese economy, because American com-
panies tended to shy away from making substantial invest-
ments in Vietnam. The U.S. government hoped that the
Japanese would fill the void at least partially, and eventually
lighten U.S. aid requirements. TTius, CIA representatives
promised certain Japanese businessmen that the agency would
supply the investment capital if the Japanese would front for
the operation and supply the technical expertise for large
commercial farms. After long and detailed negotiations, the
deal faltered and then failed.

A few years earlier the CIA had tried to disrupt Cuba's
sugar trade as part of its program to undercut Fidel Castro's
regime. At one point the Clandestine Services operatives
proposed that the CIA purchase large amounts of sugar and
then dump it in a certain foreign country so as to destroy the
market for Cuban sugar. This plan also fell through, but a
more serious attack on Cuban sugar occurred in August 1962
when a British freighter under lease to the Soviets docked in
Puerto Rico for repairs. TTie freighter, carrying Cuban sugar
destined for the Soviet Union, was placed in a bonded
warehouse while the ship was in dry dock. CIA agents broke
into the warehouse and contaminated the sugar with a non-
poisonous but unpalatable substance.

The Clandestine Theory

47

As pointed out earlier, one of the advantages a secret agency
like the CIA provides to a President is the unique pretext of
being able to disclaim responsibility for its actions. Thus, a
President can direct or approve high-risk clandestine opera-
tions such as a manned overflight of the Soviet Union on the
eve of a summit conference, a Bay of Pigs invasion, penetra-
tion and manipulation of private youth, labor, or cultural
organizations, paramilitary adventures in Southeast Asia, or
intervention in the domestic politics of Chile without openly
accepting the consequences of these decisions. If the clandes-
tine operations are successful — good. If they fail or backfire,
then usually all the President and his staff need do to avoid
culpability is to blame the CIA.

In no instance has a President of the United States ever
made a serious attempt to review or revamp the covert
practices of the CIA. Minor alterations in operational meth-
ods and techniques have been carried out, but no basic
changes in policy or practice have ever been demanded by
the White House. And this is not surprising: Presidents like
the CIA. It does their dirty work — work that might not
otherwise be "do-able." When the agency fails or blunders,
all the President need do is to deny, scold, or threaten.

For the CIA's part, being the focus of presidential blame
is an occupational hazard, but one hardly worth worrying
about. It is merely an aspect of the cover behind which the
agency operates. Like the other aspects of cover, it is part of
a deception. The CIA fully realizes that it is too important
to the government and the American political aristocracy for
any President to do more than tinker with it. The CIA shrugs
off its blunders and proceeds to devise new operations,
secure in the knowledge that the White House usually can-
not resist its offerings, particularly covert action — covert
action that dominates, that determines, that defines the shape
and purpose of the CIA. America's leaders have not yet
reached the point where they are willing to forsake interven-
tion in the internal affairs of other countries and let events
naturally run their course. There still is a widely held belief
in this country that America has the right and the responsibil-
ity to become involved in the internal political processes of
foreign nations, and while faith in this belief and that of
doctrinaire anti-communism may have been somewhat shaken
in the last decade, it was Henry Kissinger, who in 1970 when
confronted with the prospect of a democratically elected Marx-

48

The CIA and the Cult of Inulligence

isi president in Chile, still reacted by seeking covert ways to
prevent such a development. In so doing he expressed the
view of the cult of intelligence by announcing, "I don't see
why we need to stand by and watch a country go Communist
due to the irresponsibility of its own people. "

3.

THE CIA AND THE
INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY

It is (he (ask of (he Director of Central Intelligence,
utilizing his influence in the various interdepart-
mental mechanisms, to create out of these diverse
components a truly national estimate, useful to the
national interest and not just to a particular bureau-
cratic prererencc. This is not an easy task.

— HARRY HOWr RANSOM

The Inlelligrnce Establishmeni

The CIA is big, very big. Officially, it has authorized man-
power of 16,500, and an authorized budget of $750 million —
and even those figures are jealously guarded, generally made
available only to Congress. Yet, regardless of its official size
and cost, the agency is far larger and more affluent than
these figures indicate.

The CIA itself does not even know how many people
work for it. The 16,500 figure does not reflect the tens of
thousands who serve under contract (mercenaries, agents,
consultants, etc.) or who work for the agency's proprietary
companies.* Past efforts to total up the number of foreign
agents have never resulted in precise figures because of the
inordinate secrecy and compartmentalization practiced by
the Clandestine Services. Sloppy record-keeping — often de-
liberate on the part of the operators "for security pur-
poses" — is also a factor. There are one-time agents hired for
specific missions, contract agents who serve for extended
periods of time, and career agents who spend their entire
working lives secretly employed by the CIA. In some
instances, contract agents are retained long after their useful-
ness has passed, but usually are known only to the case

'Nor does the figure Include (he guard force which protects ihe CIA's build-
ings and installations, (he maintenance and char force, or the people who run
(he agency's cafe(erias. The General Services Adminis(ration employs most of
these personnel.

50

The CIA and ihe Cult of Intelligence

officers with whom they deal. One of the Watergate burglars,
Eugenio Martinez, was in this category. When he was caught
inside the Watergate on that day in June 1972, he still was
receiving a SlOO-a-month stipend from the agency for work
apparently unrelated to his covert assignment for the Com-
mittee to Re-Elect the President. The CIA claims to have
since dropped him from the payroll.

A good chunk of the agency's annual operational funds,
called "project money," is wasted in this fashion. Payments
to no-longer-productive agents are justified on several grounds:
the need to maintain secrecy about their operations even
though these occurred years ago; the vague hope that such
agents will again prove to be useful (operators are always
reluctant to give up an asset, even a useless one), and the
claim that the agency has a commitment to its old allies — a
phenomenon known in the CIA as "emotional attachment."
It is the last justification that carries the most weight within
the agency. Thus, hundreds — perhaps thousands—of former
Cuban, East European, and other minor clandestine agents
are still on the CIA payroll, at an annual cost to the taxpay-
ers of hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars a
year.

All mercenaries and many field-operations officers used in
CIA paramilitary activities are also contractees and, therefore,
are not reflected in the agency's authorized manpower level.
The records kept on these soldiers of fortune are at best only
gross approximations. In Laos and Vietnam, for example,
the Clandestine Services had a fairly clear idea of how many
local tribesmen were in its pay. but the operators were never
quite certain of the total number of mercenaries they were
financing through the agency's numerous support programs,
some of which were fronted for by the Department of
Defense, the Agency for International Development, and, of
course, the CIA proprietary. Air America.

Private individuals under contract to— or in confidential
contract with — the agency for a wide variety of tasks other
than soldiering or spying are also left out of the personnel
totals, and complete records of their employment are not
kept in any single place.* In 1967, however, when the CIA's

'Atlcmpls to cumpuicrizc the complete CIA employment list were frustrated
and evcniuiilly scuttled hy Director Helms, who viewed the effort as a poten-
tial breach of operational security.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 51

role on American campuses was under close scrutiny be-
cause of the embarrassing National Student Association
revelations, Helms asked his staff to find out just how many
university personnel were under secret contract to the CIA.
After a few days of investigation, senior CIA officers re-
ported back that they could not find the answer. Helms
immediately ordered a full study of the situation, and after
more than a month of searching records all over the agency,
a report was handed in to Helms listmg hundreds of profes-
sors and administrators on over a hundred campuses. But
the staff officers who compiled the report knew that their
work was incomplete . Within weeks, another campus connec-
tion was exposed in the press. The contact was not on the
list that had been compiled for the Director.

Just as difficult as adding up the number of agency
contractees is the task of figuring out how many people work
for its proprietaries. CIA headquarters, for instance, has
never been able to compute exactly the number of planes
flown by the airlines it owns, and personnel figures for the
proprietaries are similarly imprecise. An agency holding
company, the Pacific Corporation, including Air America
and Air Asia, alone accounts for almost 20,000 people, more
than the entire workforce of the parent CIA. For years this
vast activity was dominated and controlled by one contract
agent, George Doole, who later was elevated to the rank of
a career officer. Even then his operation was supervised,
part time, by only a single senior officer who lamented that
he did not know "what the hell was going on."

Well aware that the agency is two or three times as large as
it appears to be, the CIA's leadership has consistently sought
to downplay its size. During the directorship of Richard Helms,
when the agency had a career-personnel ceiling of 18,000, CIA
administrative officers were careful to hold the employee
totals to 200 or 300 people below the authorized complement.
Even at the height of the Vietnam war, while most national-
security agencies were increasing their number of employees,
the CIA handled its increased needs through secret contracts,
thus giving a deceptive impression of personnel leanness.
Other bureaucratic gambits were used in a similar way to
keep the agency below the 18,000 ceiling. Senior officers
were often rehired on contract immediately after they retired
and started to draw government pensions. Overseas, agency
wives were often put on contract to perform secretarial duties.

52

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

Size and Cost of the CIA
(Approximate)

Personnel S Millions

Office of the Director 4(K) 10

Clandestine Services fi.tXW 44()

(Directorate of Operations)

Espionage/Counterespionage (4.2(N)) (1X())

Covert Action (l.WK)) (260)

Directorate of Management

and Services ^ 5.3(K) 110

Communications (2,(KX)) (70)

Other Supp<irt (3.3(K)) (40)

Directorate of Intelligence 3,5(X) 70

Analysis (I.2(X)) (50)

Information Processing (2.3(X)) (20)

Directorate of Science

and Technology 1.300 120

Technical Collection (l.(XX)) (50)

Research and Development (3(X)) (70)

16.5(K)' 750"

Just as the personnel figure is deceptive, so does the
budget figure not account for a great part of the CIA's
campaign chest. The agency's proprietaries are often money-
making enterprises, and thus provide "free" services to the
parent organization. The prime examples of this phenome-
non are the airlines (Air America, Air Asia, and others)
organized under the CIA holding company, the Pacific
Corporation, which have grown bigger than the CIA itself
by conducting as much private business as possible and con-
tinually reinvesting the profits. These companies generate
revenues in the tens of millions of dollars each year, but the

"Nearly 5.()(lll CIA pcnsiinnci strvc Dvcrscas. Ihc marjoriiy (W(-7n percent)
being mcmhcri uf ihc ClandcMinc Services. Of (he remainder. fm»l arc
ciimmunicaiions iifnccrs and other opcraliimal !>upp<>rt personnel.
"DiKi not include Ihc Director's Special Contingency Fund.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

53

figures are imprecise because detailed accounting of their
activities is not normally required by agency bookkeepers.
For all practical purposes, the proprietaries conduct their
own financial affairs with a minimum of oversight from CIA
headquarters. Only when a proprietary is in need of funds
for, say, expansion of its fleet of planes, does it request
agency money. Otherwise, it is free to use its profits in any
way it sees fit. In this atmosphere, the proprietaries tend to
take on lives of their own, and several have grown too big
and too independent to be either controlled from or dis-
solved by headquarters.

Similarly, the CIA's annual budget does not show the
Pentagon's annual contribution to the agency, amounting to
hundreds of millions of dollars, to fund certain major techni-
cal espionage programs and some particularly e.xpensive clan-
destine activities. For example, the CIA's Science and
Technology Directorate has an annual budget of only a little
more than SlOO miHion, but it actually spends well over $500
million a year. The ditTerence is funded largely by the Air
Force, which underwrites the national overhead-reconnaissance
effort for the entire U.S. intelligence community. Moreover,
the Clandestine Services waged a "secret" war in Laos for
more than a decade at an annual cost to the government of
approximately $500 million. Yet, the CIA itself financed less
than 10 percent of this amount each year. The bulk of the
expense was paid for by other federal agencies, mostly the
Defense Department but also the Agency for International
Development.

Fully aware of these additional sources of revenue, the
CIA's chief of planning and programming reverently ob-
served a few years ago that the director does not operate a
mere mullimillion-doWar agency but actually runs a mulli-
biltion-doWaf conglomerate — with virtually no outside over-
sight.

In terms of financial assets, the CIA is not only more
affluent than its official annual budget reflects, it is one of
the few federal agencies that have no shortage of funds. In
fact, the CIA has more money to spend that it needs. Since
its creation in 1947, the agency has ended almost every fiscal
year with a surplus — which it takes great pains to hide from
possible discovery by the Office of Management and Budget
(OMB) or by the congressional oversight subcommittees.
The risk of discovery is not high, however, since both the

54

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

OMB and the subcommittees are usually friendly and indul-
gent when dealing with the CIA. Yet, each year the agency's
bookkeepers, at the direction of the organization's top
leadership, transfer the excess funds to the accounts of the
CIA's major components with the understanding that the
money will be kept available if requested by the director's
office. Tliis practice of squirreling away these extra dollars
would seem particularly unnecessary beaiuse the agency always
has some S50 to SlOO million on call for unanticipated costs
in a special account called the Director's Contingency Fund.

The Director's Contingency Fund was authorized by a
piece of legislation which is unique in the American system.
Under the Central Intelligence Agency Act of 1949, the Direc-
tor of Central Intelligence (DCI) was granted the privilege
of expending funds "without regard to the provisions of law
and regulations relating to the expenditure of Government
funds; and for objects of confidential, extraordinary, or emer-
gency nature, such expenditures to be accounted for solely
on the certificate of the Director. . . ." In the past, the Fund

4 LINES DELETED

But there have been times when the fund has been used for
the highly questionable purpose of paying expenses incurred
by other a|{encies of the government.

In 1967 Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara promised
Norwegian officials that the U.S. government would provide
them with some new air-defense equipment costing several
million dollars. McNamara subsequently learned the equip-
ment was not available in the Pentagon's inventories and would
have to be specially purchased for delivery to Norway. He was
also informed that, because of the high cost of the Vietnam
war (for which the Defense Department was then seeking a
supplemental appropriation from Congress), funds to procure
the air-defense equipment were not immediately at hand.
Further complications arose from the fact that the Secretary
was then engaged in a disagreement with some members of
Congress over the issue of foreign military aid. It was there-
fore decided not to openly request the funds for the small but
potentially sticky commitment to the Norwegians. Instead,
the Pentagon asked the CIA (with While House approval) to
supply the money needed for the ptifttiasc of air-defense equip-
ment. The fun<k were secretly transferred to the Defense.

The CIA and the Inttlli^cnce Community 55

5 Vi LINES DELETED

That same year President Johnson traveled to Piinta del
Este. a posh resort in Uruguay, for a meeting of the Organi-
zation of American States, lie entertained the attending
foreign leaders in a lavish manner which he apparently thought
befitted the President of the United States, and he freely
dispensed expensive gifts and souvenirs. In the process, LBJ
greatly exceeded the representational allowance that the State
Department had set aside for the conference. When the
department found itself in the embarrassing position of being
unable to cover the President's bills because of its tight
budget (due in part to the economics LBJ had been demand-
ing of the federal bureaucracy to help pay for the war in
Vietnam), it was reluctant to seek additional funds from
Congress. Representative John Rooney of Brooklyn, who
almost singlehandedly controlled Slate's appropriations, had
for years been a strong critic of representational funds (called
the "booze allowance") for America's diplomats. Rather
than face Rooney's wrath. State turned to the CIA. and the
Director's Contingency Fund was used to pay for the
President's fling at Punta del Este.

For some reason — perhaps because of the general view in
the CIA that its operations are above the law — the agency
has tended to play fiscal games that other government de-
partments would not dare engage in. One example concerns
the agency's use of its employee retirement fund, certain
agent and contract-personnel escrow accounts, and the CIA
credit union's capital, to play the stock market. With the
approval of the top CIA leadership, a small group of senior
agency officers has for years secretly supervised the manage-
ment of these funds and invested them in stocks, hoping to
turn a greater profit than normally would be earned through
the Treasury Department's traditional low-interest but safe
bank deposits and bond issues. Originally, the investment
group, consisting of CIA economists, accountants, and
lawyers, dealt with an established Boston brokerage house,
which made the final investment decisions. But several years
ago the Boston brokers proved too conservative to suit the
agency investors, some of whom were making fatter profits
with their personal portfolios. The CIA group decided it
would do much better by picking its own stocks, so the
brokerage house was reduced to doine onlv the actual stock

56

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

trading (still with a handsome commission, of course). Within
a matter of months the agency investors were earning bigger
profits than ever before. Presumably, the gains were plowed
back into the retirement, escrow, and credit-union funds.*

In 1%8, Senator Richard Russell of Georgia, then the
chairman of the Senate joint subcommittee for overseeing
the CIA's activities, privately informed Director Helms that
because of increasing skepticism among certain Senators about
the agency operations, it probably would be a good idea for
the CIA to arrange to have its financial procedures reviewed
by an independent authority. Thus, in Russell's view, poten-
tial Senate critics who might be considering making an issue
of the agency's special fiscal privileges would be undercut in
advance. Senator Russell suggested the names of a few pri-
vate individuals who might be willing to undertake such a
task on behalf of the CIA. After conferring with his senior
officers. Helms chose to ask Wilfred McNeil, at that time
the President of Grace Shipping Lines

3 LINES DELETED

to serve as the confidential reviewer of the agency's budget-
ary practices. McNeil, a former admiral and once comptrol-
ler for the Defense Department, was thought by Helms to
be ideally suited, politically and otherwise, for the assignment.

McNeil accepted the task and soon came to CIA headquar-
ters for a full briefing on the agency's most sensitive finan-
cial procedures — including an account of the methods used
for purchasing and laundering currency on the international
black market. He was told of the CIA's new planning,
programming, and budgeting system, modeled after the inno-
vations Robert McNamara had introduced at the Defense
Department. Agency experts explained to McNeil how funds
for new operations were authorized within the agency. He

'The invcslmeni practices of ihe CIA group in companies wiih overseas
holdinp open up some inlercsling questions about "insider" information.
Would the CIA group have sold Anaconda Copper short in 1970 when the
agency realized thai its coven efforts to prevent Salvador Allende from
assuming Ihe Presidency of Chile had failed? Or in 1973. when Director James
Schlesinger dedded to allnw William Broc. the former chief of the Oandes-
line Services' Western Hemisphere Divisjon. to testify before the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee and describe Ills role in trying to provoke
CIA action against Allende. might the investment group not have been
templed to dump its ITT stock (if it had any)?

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

57

learned that the agency maintained a sliding-scale system for
the approval of new projects or the fjeriodic renewal of
ongoing ones; that espionage operations costing up to SlU.OOO
could be okayed by operators in the field; and that progres-
sively more expensive operations necessitated brunch, division,
and Clandestine Services chief approval until, finally, opera-
tions costing over SI(XJ,U(K) were authorized personally by
the Director. McNeil also was briefed on the agency's inter-
nal auditing system to prevent field operatives from misusing
secret funds.

McNeil's reaction to his long and detailed briefing was to
express surprise at the scope of the CIA's Tinancial system
and to praise the accounting practices used. When asked
where and when he would like to begin his work in depth,
he politely demurred and departed — never to return. A month
or so later a CIA officer working in the Director's office
learned that McNeil had had certain misgivings about the
project and had sought the advice of former agency Director
William Raborn. who had his own doubts about the reliabil-
ity of the CIA's top career officers. Raborn had apparently
discouraged McNeil from becoming involved in such a review.
But as far as the CIA was concerned. Senator Russell's
request for an independent audit had been carried out. since
the agency's fiscal practices had been looked over by a
qualified outsider and found to be in no need of improvement.
The whole matter was then dropped.

Organization

The CIA is neatly organized into five distinct parts, a rela-
tively small office of the Director and four functional
directorates, the largest of which is the Directorate of Opera-
tions (known inside the agency as the Clandestine Services).
The executive suite houses the CIA's only two political
appointees, the Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) and
the Deputy Director (DDCI). and their immediate staffs.
Included organizationally, but not physically, in the Office of
the Director are two components that assist the DCI in his
role as head of the U.S. intelligence community. One is a
small group of senior analysts, drawn from the CIA and the
other agencies of the community, which prepares the "blue
books," or National Intelligence Estimates on such subjects

58

The CIA and the Cull of InUlligence

as Soviet strategic defense capabilities, Chinese long-range
missile developments, and the political outlook for Chile.*
The other is the Intelligence Resources Advisory Committee,
a group created in 1971, which provides staff assistance to the
Director in his efforts to manage and streamline the S6-
billion intelligence community.

The Intelligence Resources Advisory Committee, long a
dream of those officers who believe the U.S. intelligence
community to be too big and inefficient, has thus far proven
to be something of a nightmare. Instead of eliminating waste-
ful and redundant activities within U.S. intelligence, it has
been turned into a vehicle for the military intelligence agen-
cies to justify and expand their already overly ambitious
collection programs. Likewise, the recent revamping of the
Board of National Estimates, under present Director Wil-
liam Colby, has been characterized by some experienced
hands as "a sellout" to Pentagon power, caused in part by
the political pressures of Henry Kissinger's National Security
Council staff. Under Colby, the board has been greatly
reduced in both prestige and independence, and has been
brought under the stifling influence of military men whose
first allegiance is to their parent services rather than to the
production of objective, balanced intelligence assessments
for the policy-makers.

The other components of the Office of the Director in-
clude those traditionally found in governmental bureaucracies:
press officers, congressional liaison, legal counsel, and so
on. Only two merit special note: the Cable Secretariat and
the Historical Staff. The former was established in 1950 at
the insistence of the Director, General Walter Bedell Smith.
When Smith, an experienced military staff officer, learned
that agency communications, especially those between head-
quarters and the covert field stations and bases, were con-
trolled by the Clandestine Services, he immediately demanded
a change in the system. "The operators are not going to
decide what secret information I will see or not see," he is
reported to have said. TTius, the Cable Secretariat, or mes-
sage center, was put under the Director's immediate authority.

These senior analysts arc called National Intelligence Officers (and some-
times "(he Wise Men" by their colleagues wiihin the community) The group
has replaced the Board of National Estimates, which was a larger and more
formalized body of senior officeif who oversaw the preparations of national
estimates.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

59

Since then, however, (he operators have found other ways,
when it is thought necessary, of keeping their most sensitive
communications from going outside the Clandestine Services.

The Historical Staff represents one of the CIA's more
clever attempts to mainlain the secrecy on which the organi-
zation thrives. Several years ago the agency began to invite
retiring officers to spend an additional year or two with the
agency — on contract, at regular pay — writing their official
memoirs. The product of their effort is, of course, highly
classified and tightly restricted. In the agency's eyes, this is
far better than having former officers openly publish what
really happened during their careers with the CIA.

The largest of the agency's directorates is the Directorate of
Operations, or the Clandestine Services, which has about
6,000 professionals and clericals. The ratio between pro-
fessionals, mostly operations officers, and clericals, largely
secretaries, is roughly two to one. Approximately 45 percent
of the Clandestine Services personnel is stationed overseas,
the vast majority using official cover — i.e., posing as repre-
sentatives of the State or Defense department. About two
out of three of the people in the Clandestine Services are
engaged in general intelligence activities — liaison, espionage,
and counterespionage — the remainder concentrating on vari-
ous forms of covert action. Yet despite the smaller number
of personnel working on covert action, these interventions in
the internal affairs of other countries cost about half again as
much as spying and counterspying (S260 million v. $180 mil-
lion annually). The greater expense for covert action is ex-
plained by the high costs of paying for paramilitary operations
and subsidizing political parties, labor unions, and other
international groups.

The Clandestine Services is broken down into fifteen sepa-
rate components, but its actual operating patterns do not
follow the neat lines of an organizational chart. Exceptions
are the rule. Certain clandestine activities which would seem
to an outsider to be logically the responsibility of one compo-
nent are often carried out by another — because of political
sensitivity, because of an assumed need for even greater
secrecy than usual, because of bureaucratic compartmenta-
lization, or simply because things have always been done
that way.

The bulk of the Clandestine Services' personnel, about

60

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Oif anization ol the CIA

GCHTkl

] Itlcrpnl

Ofkt af

C»«rr

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

61

■•■If*]

5u<

Eiri

J

62

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

4,800 people, work in the so-called area divisions, both at
headquarters and overseas. These divisions correspond roughly
to the State Department's geographic bureaus — a logical
breakdown, since most CIA operators in foreign countries
work under State cover. The largest area division is the Far
East (with about 1,500 p>eople), followed in order of descend-
ing size by Europe (Western Europe only). Western Hemi-
sphere (Latin America plus Canada), Near East, Soviet Bloc
(Eastern Europe), and Africa (with only 300 staff). The
chain of command goes from the head of the Clandestine
Services to the chiefs of the area divisions, then overseas to
the chiefs of stations (COS) and their chiefs of bases (COB).

The CIA's stations and bases around the world serve as
the principal headquarters of covert activity in the country in
which each is located. The station is usually housed in the
U.S. embassy in the capital city, while bases are in other
major cities or sometimes on American or foreign military
bases. For example, in West Germany, the CIA's largest site
for operations, the station is located in Bonn; the chief of
station is on the staff of the American ambassador. There
are subordinate bases in ( DELETED ) and a few other
cities, along with several bases under American military
cover scattered throughout the German countryside.

The Domestic Operations Division of Clandestine Services,
is, in essence, an area division, but it conducts its mysterious
clandestine activities in the United States, not overseas. Its
chief — like the other area-division chiefs, the civilian equiva-
lent of a two- or three-star general — works out of an office
in downtown Washington, within two blocks of the White
House. Under the Washington station are bases located in
other major American cities.

Also in the Clandestine Services are three staffs. Foreign
Intelligence (espionage). Counterintelligence (counterespio-
nage), and Covert Action, which oversee operational policy
in their respective specialities and provide assistance to the
area divisions and the field elements. For instance, in an
operation to plant a slanted news story in a Chilean
newspaper, propaganda experts on the Covert Action Staff
might devise an article in cooperation with the Chilean desk of
the Western Hemisphere Division. A CIA proprietary', like
( DELETED ) might be used to write and transmit the
story to Chile so it would not be directly attributable to the
agency, and then a clandestine operator working out of the

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

63

American embassy in Santiago might work through one of
his penetration agents in the local press to ensure that the
article is reprinted. While most CIA operations abroad are
carried out through the area divisions, the operational staffs,
particularly the Covert Action Staff, also conduct indepen-
dent activities.

The Special Operations Division is something of a hybrid
between the area divisions and the operational staffs. Its
main function is to provide the assets for paramilitary
operations, largely the contracted manpower (mercenaries
or military men on loan), the materiel, and the expertise to
get the job done. Its operations, however, are organization-
ally under the station chief in the country where they are
located.

The remaining three components of the Clandestine Ser-
vices provide technical assistance to the operational com-
ponents. These three are: the Missions and Programs Staff,
which does much of the bureaucratic planning and budgeting
for the Clandestine Services and which writes up the justifica-
tion for covert operations submitted for approval to the 40
Committee; the Operational Services Division, which among
other things sets up cover arrangements for clandestine
officers; and the Technical Services Division, which pro-
duces in its own laboratories the gimmicks of the spy trade —
the disguises, miniature cameras, tape recorders, secret writing
kits, and the like.

The Directorate of Management and Services (formerly the
Directorate of Support) is the CIA's administrative and house-
keeping part. However, most of its budget and personnel is
devoted to assisting the Clandestine Services in carrying out
covert operations. (This directorate is sometimes referred to
within the agency as the Clandestine Services' "slave"
directorate.) Various forms of support are also provided to
the Directorate of Intelligence and the Directorate of Sci-
ence and Technology, but the needs of these two compo-
nents for anything beyond routine administrative tasks are
generally minimal. Covert operations, however, require a
large support effort, and the M&S Directorate, in addition
to providing normal administrative assistance, contributes in
such areas as communications, logistics, and training.

The M&S Directorate's OfTice of Finance, for example,
maintains field units in Hong Kong, Beirut, Buenos Aires,

64

The CIA and the Cult o f Intelligence

and Geneva with easy access to the international money
markets. The Office of Finance tries to keep a ready inven-
tory of the world's currencies on hand for future clandestine
operations. Many of the purchases are made in illegal black
markets where certain currencies are available at bargain
rates. In some instances, most notably in the case of the
South Vietnamese piaster, black-market purchases of a sin-
gle currency amount to millions of dollars a year.

The Office of Security provides physical protection for
clandestine installations at home and abroad and conducts
polygraph (lie detector) tests for all CIA employees and
contract personnel and most foreign agents. The Office of
Medical Services heals the sicknesses and illnesses (both
mental and physical) of CIA personnel by providing "cleared"
psychiatrists and physicians to treat agency officers; analyzes
prospective and already recruited agents, and prepares
"psychological profiles" of foreign leaders (and once, in
1971, at the request of the Watergate "plumbers," did a
"profile" of Daniel Ellsberg). The Office of Logistics oper-
ates the agency's weapons and other warehouses in the United
States and overseas, supplies normal office equipment and
household furniture, as well as the more esoteric clandestine
materiel to foreign stations and bases, and performs other
housekeeping chores. The Office of Communications, em-
ploying over 40 percent of the Directorate of Management
and Services's more than 5,000 career employees, maintains
facilities for secret communications between CIA headquar-
ters and the hundreds of stations and bases overseas. It also
provides the same services, on a reimbursable basis, for the
State Department and most of its embassies and consulates.
TYie Office of Training operates the agency's training facili-
ties at many locations around the United States, and a few
overseas. CThe Office of Communications, however, runs

2 LINES DELETED

The Office of Personnel handles the recruitment and record-
keeping for the CIA's career personnel.

Support functions are often vital for successful conduct of
covert operations, and a good support officer, like a good
supply sergeant in an army, is indispensable to a CIA station
or base. Once a station chief has found the right support
officer, one who can provide everything from housekeeping

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

65

to operational support, the two will often form a profes-
sional alliance and stay together as they move from post to
post during their careers. In some instances the senior sup-
port officer may even serve as the de facto second-in-command
because of his close relationship with the chief.

Together, the Clandestine Senices and the Directorate
for Management and Services constitute an agency within an
agency. These two components, like the largest and most
dangerous part of an iceberg, float along virtually unseen.
Their missions, methods, and personnel are quite different
from those of the CIA's other two directorates, which ac-
count for only less than a third of the agency's budget and
manpower. Yet the CIA — and particularly former Director
Richard Helms — has tried to convince the American public
that the analysts and technicians of the Directorates for
Intelligence and Science and Technology, the clean white tip
of the CIA iceberg, are the agency's key personnel.

The Directorate of Intelligence, with some 3,500 employees,
engages in two basic activities: first, the production of fin-
ished intelligence reports from the analysis of information
(both classified and unclassified); and second, the perfor-
mance of certain services of common concern for the benefit
of the whole intelligence community. Included in the latter
category are the agency's various reference services (e.g., a
huge computerized biographical library of foreign personalities,
another on foreign factories, and so on); the Foreign Broad-
casting Information Service (a worldwide radio and televi-
sion monitoring system); and the National Photographic
Interpretation Center (an organization, run in close coopera-
tion with the Pentagon, which analyzes photographs taken
from satellites and spy planes). About two thirds of the
Intelligence Directorate's $70 million annual budget is de-
voted to carrying out these services of common concern for
the government's entire national-security bureaucracy. Thus,
the State and Defense departments are spared the expense
of maintaining duplicate facilities, receiving from the CIA
finished intelligence in areas of interest to them. For example,
when there is a shift in the Soviet leadership, or a new
Chinese diplomat is posted to Washington, the Intelligence
Directorate routinely sends biographical information (usually
classified "secret") on the personalities involved to the other
government agencies. Similarly, the various State Depart-

66

The CI A and the Cult of Intelligence

ment bureaus (along with selected American academicians
and newspapers) regularly receive the agency's unclassified
transcripts of foreign radio and television broadcasts.

Most of the rest of the Intelligence Directorate's assets are
focused on political, economic, and strategic military research.
The agency's specialists produce both current intelligence —
reports and explanations on a daily basis of the world's
breaking events — and long-range analysis of trends, poten-
tial crisis areas, and other matters of interest to the govern-
ment's policy-makers. Turning out current intelligence re-
ports is akin to publishing a newspaper, and, in fact, the
Intelligence Directorate puts out daily and weekly publica-
tions which, except for their high security classifications, are
similar to work done by the American press. These regular
intelligence reports, along with special ones on topics like
corruption in South Vietnam or the prospects for the Soviet
wheat crop, are sent to hundreds of "consumers" in the
federal government. The primary consumer, however, is the
President, and he receives every morning a special publica-
tion called the President's Daily Brief. In the Johnson admin-
istration these reports frequently contained, in addition to
the normal intelligence fare, rather scandalous descriptions
of the private lives of certain world leaders, always avidly
read by the President.* The agency found, however, that in
the Nixon administration such items were not appreciated,
and the tone of the daily report was changed. Even so,
President Nixon and Henry Kissinger soon lost interest in
reading the publication; the task was relegated to lower-
ranking officials on the National Security Council staff.

Tlie fourth and newest of the CIA's directorates. Science
and Technology, also employs the smallest number of
personnel, about 1,300 people. It carries out functions such
as basic research and development, the operation of spy
satellites, and intelligence analysis in highly technical fields.
In addition to these activities, it also handles the bulk of the
agency's electronic data-processing (computer) work. While
the S&T Directorate keeps abreast of and does research

'President Johnson's laste in inlclligcnce was far from convenlional. A former
high Stale Deparlmcnl official tells of attending a meeting at the White House
and then staying on for a talk with the President afterward. LBJ proceeded to
play for him a tape recording (one of those presumably made by the FBI) of
Martin Luther King in a rather compromising situation.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 67

work in a wide variety of scientific fields, its most important
successes have come in developing technical espionage
systems. The precursor of this directorate was instrumental
in the development of the U-2 and SR-71 spy planes. The
S&T experts have also made several brilliant breakthroughs
in the intelligence-satellite field. In the late 19S0s, when
Clandestine Services chief Richard Bissell encouraged the
technicians in their development of America's first photo-
reconnaissance satellite, they produced a model which was
still in use as late as 1971. And agency technicians have
continued to make remarkable advances in the "state of the
art." Today spy satellites, capable of producing photographs
from space with less than ( DELETED ) resolution, lead all
other collection means as a source of intelligence. The S&T
Directorate has also been a leader in developing other techni-
cal espionage techniques, such as over-the-horizon radars,
"stationary" satellites, and various other electronic infor-
mation-gathering devices.

The normal procedure has been for the S&T Directorate,
using both CIA and Pentagon funds, to work on a collection
system through the research-and-development stage. Then,
once the system is perfected, it is turned over to the Defense
Department. In the case of a few particularly esoteric systems,
the CIA has kept operational control, but the agency's S&T
budget of about SL20 million per year is simply not large
enough to support many independent technical collection
systems.

CIA technicians, for example, worked with Lockheed Air-
craft at a secret site in Nevada to develop the A- 11, proba-
bly the most potent airborne collection system ever to fly. In
February 1964, before the plane became operational. President
Johnson revealed its existence to the news media, describing
it as a long-range Air Force interceptor. Five months later,
at another news conference, the President disclosed that
there was a second version of the aircraft, which he de-
scribed as "an advanced strategic reconnaissance plane for
military use, capable of world-wide reconnaissance." Three
years after that, when the A-11, now the SR-71, was flying
regularly, the program was turned over to the Air Force.

Just before the actual transfer, . . . The White House gave its
approval for trial flights . . . and three of the sleek black
planes left a secret base . . . and landed in . . . From there,
the planes carried out reconnaissance flights over . . .

68

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Any reasonable reviewer of the CIA, after surveying the
deployment of agency funds and personnel and weighing
these against the intelligence gains produced by the various
directorates, would probably come to the same conclusion as
did Richard Helms' temporary replacement as Director, James
Schlesinger. On April 5, 1973, Schlesinger admitted to the
Senate Armed Forces Committee that "We have a problem
... we just have too many people. It turns out to be too
many people on the operational areas. These are the people
who in the past served overseas. . . . Increasing emphasis is
being placed on science and technology, and on intelligence
judgments. "

Schlesinger's words — and the fact that he was not a "house
man" from the Clandestine Services — were auguries of hope
to those many critics of the CIA who believe that it is overly
preoccupied with the covert side of intelligence. But Schle-
singer lasted only four months at the agency before he was
named Secretary of Defense, and the changes he effected were
generally confined to a 6-percenI staff cut and an early-retire-
ment program for certain superannuated employees. Schle-
singer has been succeeded by William Colby — a man who had
a highly successful career as a clandestine operator specializing
in "dirty tricks." and who can only by expected to maintain
the Dulles-Helms policy of concentration on covert action.

At present the afjency uses about two thirds of its funds and
its manpower for covert operations and their support — pro-
portions that have been held relatively constant for more
than ten years. Thus, out of the agency's career work force
of roughly 16,500 people and yearly budget of about $750
million, 11,000 personnel and roughly $550 million are ear-
marked for the Qandesline Services and those activities of
the Dirccloralc of Management and Services (formerly the
Directorate of Support), such as communications, logistics,
and training, which contribute to covert activities. Only about
20 percent of the CIA's career employees (spending less
than 10 percent of the budget) work on intelligence analysis
and information processing. There is little reason, at present,
to expect that things will change.

The Intelligence Community

Taken as a whole, U.S. intelligence is no longer made up of
a small glamorous fraternity of adventurous blue-bloods —

The CIA and the Inlelligence Community

69

men motivated by a sense of noblesse oblige who carry out
daring undercover missions. That is the romantic myth with-
out which there would be few spy novels, but it is not the
substance of the modern intelligence profession. Today the
vast majority of those in the spy business are faceless, desk-
bound bureaucrats, far removed from the world of the secret
agent. To be sure, the CIA still strives to keep alive such
techniques as classical espionage and covert action, but its
efforts have been dwarfed by the huge technical collection
programs of other government intelligence organizations —
chiefly military agencies.

In all, there are ten different components of the federal
government which concern themselves with the collection
and/or analysis of foreign intelligence. These ten agencies,
complete with their hundreds of subordinate commands,
offices, and staffs, are commonly referred to as the "in-
telligence community." Operating silently in the shadows
of the federal government, carefully obscured from public
view and virtually immune to congressional oversight, the
intelligence community every year spends over S6 billion
and has a full-time work force of more than 150,000
people. The bulk of this money and manpower is devoted
to the collection of information through technical means and
the processing and analysis of that information. The intelli-
gence community amasses data on all the world's countries,
but the primary targets are the communist nations, especially
the Soviet Union and China, and the most sought-after
information concerns their military capabilities and intentions.

Size and Cost of
U.S. Intelligence Community
(Approximate)

ORGANIZATION

PERSONNEL

ANNUAL
BUDGET

Central Intelligence Agency

16,500

$750,000,000

National Security Agency*

24,000 $1,200,000,000

Defense Intelligence Agency*

5,000

$200,000,000

'Depanmeni of Defense agency

70 The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

Army Intelligence*

Naval Intelligence*

Air Force Intelligence*
(Including the National
Reconnaissance Office)

35.000 $700,000,000
15.000 S600;000.000
56.(X)0 S2.7()0,(X)0,O0O

State Department

(Bureau of Intelligence

and Research) ^ m $8,000,000

Federal Bureau of Investigation

(Internal Security Division) 800 $40,IX)0,000

Atomic Energy Commission 3<K] $20,000,000
(Division of Intelligence)

Treasury Department 3(X) $10,000.000

TOTAL 153.250 $6,228,000,000

As can be seen, the intelligence community's best-known
member, the CIA, accounts for less than 15 percent of its
total funds and personnel. Despite the agency's compara-
tively small size, however, the head of the CIA is not only
the number-one man in his own agency but, as a result of
the National Security Act of 1947, is also the Director of
Central Intelligence (DCI) — the titular chief of the entire
intelligence community. However, the community which the
DCI supposedly oversees is made up of fiercely independent
bureaucratic entities with little desire for outside supervision.
All the members except the CIA are parts of much larger
governmental departments, and they look to their parent
agencies for guidance, not to the DCI. While all participants
share the same profession and general aim of protecting the
national security, the intelligence community has developed
into an interlocking, overlapping maze of organizations, each
with its own goals. In the words of Admiral Rufus Taylor,
former head of Naval Intelligence and former Deputy Direc-
tor of the CIA, it most closely resembles a "tribal federation."

The Director of Central Intelligence heads up several inter-

'Dcparlmcnl of Defense iigency

The CIA and llie Intelligence Community

71

agency groups which were created to aid him in the manage-
ment and operation of the intelligence community. The DCI's
two principal tools for managing intelligence are the Intelli-
gence Resources Advisory Committee (IRAC) and the United
States Intelligence Board (USIB). The IRAC's members
include representatives from the State Department, Defense,
the Office of Management and Budget, and the CIA itself.
(Since the agency's Director chairs the group in his role as
DCI, or head of the intelligence community, the CIA is also
given a seat.) IRAC was formed in November 1971, and it is
supposed to prepare a consolidated budget for the whole
community and generally assure that intelligence resources
are used as efficiently as possible. However, it has not been
in existence long enough for its performance to be judged,
especially since three different DCIshave already headed it.

The USIB's main tasks are the issuance of National Intelli-
gence Estimates and the setting of collection requirements
and priorities. Under it are fifteen permanent inter-agency
committees and a variety of ad hoc groups for special
problems. Working through these committees and groups,
the USIB. among other things, lists the targets for American
intelligence and the priority attached to each one.* coordinates
within the intelligence community the estimates of future
events and enemy strengths, controls the classification and
security systems for most of the U.S. government, directs
research in the various fields of technical intelligence, and
decides what classified information will be passed on to foreign
friends and allies.**

The USIB meets every Thursday morning in a conference
room on the seventh floor of CIA headquarters. At a typical

'Although in a crisis situation, like the Implcmcntatlnn of the Arab-Israeli
cease-fire in I97U. Henry Kissinger or occasionally the Prusidcnl himself may
set the standards. In the I97U case

3Vi LINES DELETED

"Intelligence reports are routinely provided to certain foreign countries,
especially the English-speaking ones, on the basis of so-called intelligence
agreements entered into by the DCI and his foreign equivalents. Although
these agreements commit the United States government to a specified course
of action enforceable under international law. they arc never submitted as
treaties to the U.S. Senate. In fact, they arc negotiated and put into force in
complete secrecy, and no member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee

72

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

meeting there are three or four subjects on the agenda, itself
a classified document which the USIB secretariat circulates
to each member a few days before the meeting. The first
item of business is always the approval of the minutes of the
last session: in the interest of security, the minutes are
purposely made incomplete. Then the USIB turns to the
Watch Report, which has been prepared earlier in the week
by an mter-agency USIB committee responsible for keeping
an eye out for any indication that armed conflict, particu-
larly one which might threaten the United States or any of
its allies, may break out anywhere in the world. A typical
Watch Report might, in effect, say something like: War
between the United States and the Soviet Union does not
seem imminent this week, but the Soviets are going ahead
with the development of their latest missile and have moved
two new divisions into position along the Chinese border;
North Vietnamese inflltration along the Ho Chi Minh trail
(as monitored by sensors and radio intercepts) indicates that
the level of violence will probably rise in the northern half of
South Vietnam; and satellite photos of the Suez Canal
( DELETED ) point to a higher level of tension between
Israel and Egypt.

Once the USIB gives its routine assent, the Watch Report
is forwarded to the nation's top policy-makers, who nor-
mally do not even glance at it, since they know that every-
thing in it of any consequence has already been distributed
to them in other intelligence reports. If some apocalyptic
sign that war might break out were ever picked up by any
agency of the community, the President and his top aides
would be notified immediately, and the USIB would not be
consulted; but as long as nothing of particular note is
occurring, every Thursday morning the USIB spends an
average of about thirty seconds discussing the Watch Report
(which actually takes several man-weeks to prepare) before
it is forwarded to the White House.

Next on the USIB agenda is the consideration and, almost
always, the approval of the one or two National Intelligence
Estimates which have been completed that week. These
estimates of enemy capabilities and future events are drafted
in advance by the CIA's National Intelligence Officers and
then coordinated at the staff level with the various USIB-
member agencies. By the time the estimates comes before
the USIB itself, all differences have normally been compro-

The CIA and the Intelligence Communiry

73

mised in the inter-agency coordination meetings, or. failing
in that accommodation, a dissenting member has already
prepared a footnote stating his agency's disagreement with
the conclusions or text of the NIE.

Once the USIB has approved the estimates before it (now
certified as the best judgments of the intelligence community
on the particular subject), the board turns to any special
items which all the members have the prerogative of placing
on the agenda. One Thursday in 1969 the chief of Naval
Intelligence asked the USIB to reconsider a proposal, which
had earlier been turned down at the USIB subcommittee
level, to furnish the Brazilian navy with relatively advanced
American cryptological equipment. Because of the sensitiv-
ity of U.S. codes and encrypting devices, exports — even to
friendly countries — need the USIB's approval; the board
turned down this particular request. At another meeting in
1970 the special discussion was on whether or not a very
sophisticated satellite should be targeted against the ( DE-
LETED ) part of the (DELETED) instead of (DELETED).
The Air Force's request to (DELETED) its satellite came to
the USIB under its responsibility for setting intelligence-
collection priorities; citing the great cost of the satellite and
the possibility that the (DELETED) might lead to a mal-
function, the USIB said no to the (DELETED). In another
1970 meeting the USIB considered a Pentagon proposal to
lower the U.S. government's research goals for the detection
of underground nuclear explosions. Again the USIB said
no."

On occasion, when extremely sensitive matters are to be
discussed, the USIB goes into executive session — the practi-
cal effect of which is that all staff members leave the room
and no minutes at all are kept. The USIB operated in this
atmosphere of toal privacy for a 1969 discussion of the Green

*Thc Pentagon claimed ihai ihcrc was noi enough money available in its
budget to attain the level of detection on ihc Richtcr scale set forth in the
USIB guidelines, and that relaxing the standard reflected this fmancial reality.
The State Department argued that a changed goal might open the intelligence
community up to criticism on grounds that it had not done everything possible
to achieve a comprehensive nuclear test ban — which would ultimately be
dependent on both sides, being confident that cheating by the other party
could be detected. DCI Helms sided with State But the civilian victory was a
hollow one. since there was no way the DCI could ensure that the Pentagon
would indeed spend more money on seismic research in order to be able to

meel the levpl nf H^li>rtinn fiv«-H hv the- I ICIR

74

The CIA and the Cidi of IntMgence

The U^. lolelligenee Conmunily

Tlx PTOUtW

■ Of

Amic Encro

DtfCH I

Amilut
fur lateL

JniBt dlit/l

SccuritT

Cattnl

olSlma I

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lonnUiiljaill

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

75

76

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

Beret murder case and again in 1970 for a brieflng of the
Fitzhugh panel's recommendations on the reorganization of
Pentagon intelligence (see p. 89).

Under DCI Helms, most USIB meetings were finished
within forty-five minutes. Since almost all of the substantive
work had been taken care of in preparatory sessions at the
staff level, the USIB rarely did anything more than ratify
already determined decisions, and thus the board, the highest-
level substantive committee of the U.S. intelligence com-
munity, had very little work to do on its own.

The USIB and its fifteen committees deal exclusively with
what is called national intelligence — intelligence needed, in
theory, by the country's policy-makers. But there is a second
kind of intelligence — "departmental" — which is, again in
theory, solely for the use of a particular agency or military
service. The Army, Navy, and Air Force collect great amounts
of departmental intelligence to support their tactical missions.
For example, an American commander in Germany may
desire data on the enemy forces that would oppose his
troops if hostilities broke out, but the day-to-day movements
of Soviet troops along the East German border are of little
interest to high officials back in Washington (unless, of
course, the Soviets are massing for an invasion, in which
case the information would be upgraded to national intel-
ligence). The dividing line between national and departmen-
tal intelligence, however, is often quite faint, and the mili-
tary have frequently branded as departmental a number of
wasteful collection programs that they know would not be
approved on the national level.

Although the CIA has had since its creation exclusive
responsibility for carrying out overseas espionage operations
for the collection of national intelligence, the various mili-
tary intelligence agencies and the intelligence units of Ameri-
can forces stationed abroad have retained the right to seek
out tactical information for their own departmental require-
ments. During the Korean and Vietnamese wars, field com-
manders understandably needed data of enemy troop move-
ments, and one way of obtaining it was through the hiring of
foreign agents. But even in peacetime, with U.S. forces
permanently stationed in countries like England, Germany,
Italy, Morocco, Turkey, Panama, Japan, and Australia, the
military intelligence services have consistently sought to ac-

The CIA and the Intelligence Community T7

quire information through their own secret agents — the
justification, of course, always being the need for departmen-
tal or tactical intelligence. To avoid duplication and prolifera-
tion of agents, all of these espionage missions are supposed
to be coordinated with the CIA. But the military often fail
to do this because they know the CIA would not give its
approval, or because an arrangement has been previously
worked out to the effect that as long as the military stay out
of CIA's areas of interest, they can operate on their own.
Every military unit has an intelligence section, and few com-
manders wish to see their personnel renuiin idle. Therefore,
if for no other reason than to keep their soldiers occupied,
American military intelligence units overseas are usually in-
volved in the espionage game.

For example, a militar\' intelligence unit a.ssigned to Bangkok,
Thailand, as late as 1971 was trying to entrap Soviet KGB
officers, recruit local spies, and even was attempting to run
its own agents into China through Hong Kong. Little or
none of this activity was being cleared with the CIA. Similarly,
in Army intelligence officers stationed in the . . . at virtually
every level, and others operating in Germany were revealed
in 1973 to be carrying out extensive covert surveillance —
including phone taps — of American antiwar and leftist civil-
ians.

The tribalism that plagues the intelligence community is at
its worst in the military intelligence agencies, and most of
the personnel working for these organizations feel their first
loyalty is to their parent service. The men who run military
intelligence are almost all career officers who look to the
Army, Navy, and Air Force for promotion and other
advancement. They serve only a tour or two in intelligence
before they return to conventional military life. Very few are
willing to do anything in their intelligence assignments which
will damage their careers, and they know all too well that
analysis on their part which contradicts the views or the
policies of the leadership of their parent service will not be
well received. Thus, their intelligence judgments tend to be
clouded by the prejudices and budgetary needs of the mili-
tary service whose uniform they wear.

The Army, the Navy, and the Air Force traditionally
maintained their own independent intelligence agencies —
ostensibly to support their tactical responsibilities and to
maintain an enemv "order of battle." Each service collected

78 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

its own information and quite often was less than forthcom-
ing to the others. The result was a large amount of duplica-
tion and an extremely parochial approach in each service's
analysis of enemy capabilities.

This self-serving approach of the military services toward
intelligence led to the formation in 1961 of the Defense
Intelligence Agency, which was supposed to coordinate and
consolidate the views and, to some extent, the functions of
the three service agencies. It was planned that the DIA
would replace the Army, Navy, and Air Force at the USIB
meetings, but Allen Dulles and successive DCIs have balked
at leaving total responsibility for representing the Pentagon
to the DIA, which has subsequently developed its own brand
of parochialism as the intelligence arm of the Join Chiefs of
Staff. TTius, while only the DIA is an official USIB member,
the heads of the three service agencies remain at the table
for the weekly sessions, push their pet theories, and demand
that footnotes he included in intelligence estimates that run
contrary to their views of their service.

Aside from operating the overt system of military attaches
working out of American embassies overseas, the DIA does
little information collection on its own. It is largely depen-
dent on the service intelligence agencies for its raw data, and
its 5,000 employees process and analyze this material and
turn it into finished intelligence reports which are circulated
within the Pentagon and to the rest of the intelligence
community. The DIA also prepares daily and weekly intelli-
gence digests that are similar in form and content to the CIA
publications, and makes up its own estimates of enemy
capabilities. This latter function did not take on much signifi-
cance in the DIA until November 1970, when the agency was
reorganized and Major General Daniel Graham was given a
mandate by DIA chief Lieutenant General Donald Bennett
to improve the agency's estimating capability. Graham had
served two earlier tours of duty in CIA's Office of National
Estimates, and he quickly established the DIA office as a
serious rival to the agency's estimative function. *

*As a colonel in the late I96(k, Graham nearly resigned from the Army lo
accept an offer of permanent employment with the CIA. In early 1973 DCI
James Schlesinger brought him back to the agency, still in uniform, to work
on military estimates. Graham was widely known in the corridors of the CiA
as the funny lililc military offlccr who hung a drawing of a bayonet over his
desk with a caption describing it as "The weapon of the future."

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

79

Although the DIA was originally intended to take over
many of their functions, the service intelligence agencies
have continued to grow and flourish since its founding. Indeed,
each of the three is larger than the DIA, and Air Force
intelligence is the biggest spy organization in the whole
intelligence community, with 56,000 employees and an an-
nual budget of about $2.7 billion. Most of this latter figure
goes to pay for the extremely costly reconnaissance satellites
and the rockets necessary to put them in orbit. A separate
part of Air Force intelligence, the Naliunal Reconnaissance
Office, operates these satellite programs for the entire
community, and the NRO's budget alone is more than SI .5
billion a year. The NRO works in such intense secrecy that
its very existence is classified. Its director for many years was
a mysterious Air Force colonel (and later brigadier general)
named Ralph Steakley, who retired in the early 1970s to take
employment with Westinghouse, a defense contractor which
sells considerable equipment to the NRO.

The Office of Naval Intelligence, with about 15,OtO em-
ployees and a S6(X) million annual budget, is perhaps the
fastest-growing member of the intelligence community. At
the same time submarine-missile (Polaris and Poseidon) pro-
grams have in recent years received larger and larger bud-
gets ( DELETED ) have similarly captured the imag-
ination of the military planners. Naval Intelligence operates
( DELETED ) crammed with the most modern sensors,
radars, cameras, and other listening devices which

3 LINES DELETED

The Navy formerly sent surface ships, like the Liberty and
the Pueblo, on similar missions, but since the attack on the
former and the capture of the latter, these missions have
largely been discontinued.

Army Intelligence is the least mechanized of the three
service agencies. Its mission is largely to acquire tactical
intelligence in support of its field forces. Yet, due to the
great size of the Army and the proliferation of G2-type
units, the Army still manages to spend about $700 million
annually and employ 35,000 people in intelligence.

The remaining large component of military intelligence is
the National Security Agency. The NSA, the most secretive
member of the intelligence community, breaks foreign codes

80

Thi" CIA and the Cull o f Intelligence

and ciphers and develops secure communications for the
U.S. government — at a cost to the taxpayer of about $1.2
billion every year. Founded in 1952 by a classified presiden-
tial order, the NSA employs about 24,000 people. Its head-
quarters is at Fort Mcadc, Maryland, and its hundreds of
listening posts around the world eavesdrop on the communi-
cations of most of the world's countries— enemy and friend
alike. Most of the NSA's intercept stations are operated by
special cryptological units from the armed forces, which are
subordinate to the head of the NSA.

Under the Fitzhugh recommendations, which were put into
effect in 1972. the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Intelli-
gence has overall responsibility for military intelligence. In-
dependent of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the military services,
he is supposed to coordinate and generally supervise the
activities of the DIA, the service intelligence agencies, the
NSA, the Defense Mapping Agency, and the Defense Inves-
tigative Service. These latter two organizations were formed
in early 1972 (also as, a result of the Fitzhugh recommendations)
out of the three separate mapping and investigative agencies
which had previously existed in the Army, Navy, and Air
Force. The mappers, aided by satellite photography, chart
nearly every inch of the earth's surface. The investigators
perform counterintelligence work and look into the back-
grounds of Defense Department personnel. In the late 1960s,
however, the three units which would later become the
Defense Investigative Service devoted much of their time
and effort to reporting on domestic dissident and anti-war
groups. The Secretary of Defense ordered that this military
surveillance of civilians be stopped in early 1971, but there
are indications that it is still going on.

The State Department's Bureau of Intelligence and Re-
search has the smallest budget in the intelligence community —
only $8 million — and it is the only member with no collection
capability of its own. It is completely dependent on State
Department diplomatic cables and the sources of other com-
munity members for the data which its 350 employees turn
into finished intelligence reports. INR represents State on all
the USIB and other inter-agency panels dealing with intel-
ligence. It coordinates within State the departmental posi-
tion for 40 Committee meetings, and does the Under
Secretary's staff work for these meetings. The Director of

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

81

INR until the end of 1973, Ray S. Cline, spent twenty-two
years with the CIA before he joined the State Department
in 1969. He had risen to be the agency's Deputy Director for
Intelligence before losing out in an internal CIA struggle in
1966, when he was sent off to head agency operations in West
Germany. Although the German station was (and is) the
CIA's largest in the world, Cline was far from the center of
power in Washington. However, his absence apparently did
not diminish either his bureaucratic skills or his capabilities
as an intelligence analyst, and he bolstered INR's position
within the community, although the bureau, without any
resources of its own, still remains a comparatively minor
participant.*

The FBI, the Atomic Energy Commission, and the Trea-
sury Department — the lesser members of the USIB — are all
active participants in the intelligence community although the
primary functions of these organizations are unrelated to the
collection of foreign intelligence. Nevertheless, the FBI's
internal-security duties include protecting the country against
foreign espionage attempts, a responsibility considered to be
associated with that of the intelligence community. The Atomic
Energy Commission has an intelligence division which con-
cerns itself with information about nuclear developments in
foreign countries and maintains technical listening posts around
the world (sometimes manned by CIA personnel) to monitor
foreign atomic blasts. The Treasury Department's connec-
tion with the intelligence community is based primarily in its
campaign to halt drugs entering the United States.

Contrary to the National Security Act of 1947, the CIA today
does not in fact perform the function of "coordinating the
intelligence activities of the several governmental depart-
ments and agencies." For a time during the early 1950s the
DCI did manage some degree of control over the other
agencies, but in the years that followed came the technologi-
cal explosion in intelligence and with it the tremendous
expansion of the community. The spying trade was trans-
formed — everywhere but at the CIA — from a fairly small,
agent-oriented profession to a machine-dominated information-

'INR's position within the intelligence community has been upgraded recently
because of Henry Kissinger's assumption of the role of Secretary of State and
by his appointment of long-time NSC aide and former CIA officer William
Hyland to the post of director.

82 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

gathenng enterprise of almost boundless proportions. Tech-
nical collection, once a relatively minor activity in which
gentlemen did read other gentlemen's mail, blossomed into
a wide range of activities including COMINT (communications
intelligence). SIGINT (signal intelligence), PHOTINT (photo-
graphic intelligence), ELINT (electronic intelligence), and
RADINT (radar intelligence). Data was obtained by highly
sophisticated equipment on planes, ships, submarines, orbit-
ing and stationary space satellites, radio and electronic inter-
cept stations, and radars — some the size of three football
fields strung together. The sensors, or devices, used for
collection consisted of high-resolution and wide-angle cameras,
infra-red cameras, receivers for intercepting micro-wave trans-
missions and telemetry signals, side-looking and over-the-
horizon radars, and other even more exotic contrivances.

The proliferation of technical collection has also had a
significant influence on the personnel makeup of the intelli-
gence community. TTie mountains of information received
gave rise to a variety of highly specialized data processors;
cryptanalysts. traffic analysts, photographic interpreters, and
telemetry, radar, and signal analysts, who convert the incom-
prehensible bleeps and squawks intercepted by their ma-
chines into forms usable by the substantive intelligence
analysts. And it has created a new class of technocrats and
managers who conceive, develop, and supervise the opera-
tion of systems so secret that only a few thousand (sometimes
only a couple of hundred) people have high enough security
clearances to see the finished intelligence product.

The information collected by the technical systems consti-
tutes the most valuable data available to U.S. intelligence.
Without it, there would be no continuing reliable way for
government to determine with confidence the status of
foreign — especially Soviet and Chinese — strategic military
capabilities. Without it, also, there would have been no
agreement with the Soviet Union in 1972 for the limitations
of strategic armaments, since that pact was absolutely depen-
dent on each side being confident that it could monitor new
military developments — even possible cheating — on the other
side through its own satellites and other surveillance equip-
ment.

The first advanced overhead-reconnaissance systems — the
U-2 spy planes and the early satellites in the late 19S0s and
early 1960s — provided valuable information about the Soviet

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 83

Union, but their successes only whetted the appetites of
U.S. military planners, who had so long been starved for
good intelligence on America's main adversary. Once they
got a taste of the fruits of technical collection, they de-
manded more specific and more frequent reporting on the
status of the Soviet armed forces. And the technicians, with
nearly unlimited funds at their disposal, obliged them, partly
because the technicians themselves had a natural desire to
expand the state of their art.

A complementary circle of military intelligence requirements
and technical collection methods evolved. Collection re-
sponded to requirements and, in turn, generated still further
demands for information, which resulted in the development
of yet bigger and better collection systems. If some particu-
lar type of data could somehow be collected, invariably one
or another part of the Pentagon would certify that it was
needed, and a new technical system for gathering it would
be developed. The prevailing ethic became collection for
collection's sake.

In the infant years of the technological explosion, Allen
Dulles paid scant attention to technical collection's potential
as an intelligence tool. He was far more interested in clandes-
tine operations and the overthrowing of foreign governments.
After the Bay of Pigs debacle in 1961 cut short Dulles' career
as DCI, his successor, John McCone, soon grasped the im-
portance of the new information-gathering systems. He tried
to reassert the CIA's leadership position in this area, and as
part of his effort he created the Directorate for Science and
Technology and recruited a brilliant young scientist, Albert
"Bud" Wheelon, to head the component. But try as he
might, the tenacious, hard-driving McCone could not cope
with the Pentagon juggernaut, then under the direction of
Robert McNamara, who energetically supported the military
services in their efforts to gain maximum control of all
technical collection. McCone was forced to conclude that the
battle with the Defense Department was lost and the trend
toward Pentagon domination was irreversible. This was one
of the reasons that McCone resigned in 1965 (another being,
in McCone's view. President Johnson's lack of appreciation
for strategic intelligence such as the National Intelligence
Estimates).

McCone was followed by Admiral William Raborn, whose
ineffective tour as DCI was mercifully ended after only

84 The CIA and the Cull of Inielligcnce

fourteen months, to the relief of all members of the intelli-
gence community.

Richard Helms took over the CIA in the spring of 1966.
Like Dulles, he was much more interested in the cloak-and-
dagger field, where he had spent his entire career, than in
the machines thai had revolutionized the intelligence trade.
Although he was Director of Central Intelligence, not just
the head of CIA, Helms rarely challenged the Pentagon on
matters regarding technical collection — or, for that matter,
intelligence analysis — until, belatedly, his Inst years as DCI.
As a result, during his directorship the CIA was completely
overshadowed by the other agencies in all intelligence activi-
ties other than covert operations, and even here the military
made deep inroads.

Richard Helms clearly understood the bureaucratic facts
of life. He knew all too well that he did not have Cabinet
status and thus was not the equal of the Secretary of Defense,
the man ultimately responsible for the military intelligence
budget. Helms simply did not have the power to tell the
Pentagon that the overall needs of U.S. intelligence (which
were, of course, his responsibility as DCI) demanded that
the military cut back on <i particular spying program and
spend the money elsewhere. Since managing the intelligence
community did not interest him very much anyway, only on
a few occasions did he make the effort to exercise some
measure of influence over the other agencies outside the
CIA.

In 1967 Helms was urged by his staff to authorize an official
review of intelligence collection by community members,
with special emphasis on the many technical collection systems.
However, Helms was reluctant to venture far into this highly
complex, military-controlled field, and decided only to autho-
rize a study of the CIA's "in-house" needs. He named an
experienced senior agency officer, Hugh Cunningham, to
head the small group picked to make the study. Cunningham,
a former Rhodes scholar, had previously served in top posi-
tions with the Clandestine Services and on the Board of
National Estimates. With his broad exp>erience, he seemed
to agency insiders to be an ideal choice to carry out the
review. After several months of intense investigation, he and
his small group concluded — this was the first sentence of
their report — "The United States intelligence community col-
lects too much information." They found that there was a

The CIA and the Intelligence Community

85

large amount of duplication in the collection effort, with two
or more agencies often spending great amounts of money to
amass essentially the same data, and that much of the infor-
mation collected was useless for anything other than low-
level intelligence analysis. The study noted that the glut of
raw data was clogging the intelligence system and making it
difficult for the analysts to separate out what was really
important and to produce thoughtful material for the policy-
makers. TTie study also obsen ed that the overabundance of
collection resulted in an excess of finished intelligence reports,
many of which were of little use in the formulation of na-
tional policy; there simply were too many reports on too
many subjects for the high-level policy-makers to cope with.

The Cunningham study caused such consternation in the
CIA that Helms refused to disseminate it to the other intelli-
gence agencies. Several of his deputies complained bitterly
about the study's critical view of their own directorates and
the way it seemed to diminish the importance of their work.
Since the study was even harsher in dealing with the military's
intelligence programs, Melms was further unwilling to risk
the Pentagon's wrath by circulating it within the intelligence
community. He decided to keep the controversial report
within the CIA.

Always the master bureaucrat. Helms resorted to the time-
honored technique of forming another special study group to
review the work of the first group. He organized a new
committee, the Senior Executive Group, to consider in gen-
eral terms the CIA's managerial problems. The SEG's first
job was to look over the Cunningham study, but its mem-
bers were hardly fitted to the task. They were the chiefs of
the agency's four directorates, each of which had been heav-
ily criticized in the original study; the Executive Director
(the CIA's number-three man), a plodding, unimaginative
former support officer; and — as chairman — the Deputy DCI,
Admiral Rufus Taylor, a career naval officer. After several
prolonged meetings, the SEG decided, not surprisingly, that
the study on collection was of only marginal value and
therefore not to be acted on in any significant way. A short
time later Cunningham was transferred to the Office of
Training, one of the CIA's administrative Siberias. The SEG
never met again.

Although Richard Helms showed little talent for manage-
ment — and even less interest in it — during his years as DCI

86

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

he did make some efforts to restrict the expansion of the
intelligence community. One such try was successful. It oc-
oiired in the late 196()s when Helms refused to give his approval
for further development work on the Air Force's extremely
expensive manned orbiting laboratory (MOL), which was
then being promoted as being, among other things, an
intelligence-collection system Without Helms' endorsement,
the Air Force was unable to convince the White House of
the need for the project, and it was subsequently dropped by
the Johnson administration. (Some Air Force officials viewed
Helms' lack of support us retaliation for the Air Force's
"capture" in I%7 of the SR-71 rcconnaissiince plane, which
the CIA had originally developed and would have preferred
to keep under its control, but this criticism was probably
unfair Helms simply seemed to be going along with the
strong pressure in the Johnson administration to cut costs
because of the Vietnam war. and saw the MOL as a particu-
larly vulnerable — and technically dubious — program in a pe-
riod of tight budgets.)

Helms was always a realist about power within the
government, and he recognized that, except in a rare case
like that of the MOL. he simply did not have the clout to
prevent the introduction of most new technical collection
systems. He also understood that the full force of the Penta-
gon was behind these projects — as redundant or superfluous
as they often were — and that if he concentrated his efforts
on trying to eliminate or even reduce unproductive and
outdated systems, he was making enemies who could under-
cut his own pet clandestine projects overseas. But even the
few efforts he did bring against these obviously wasteful
systems failed (save that against the MOL), demonstrating
vividly that the true power over budgets in the intelligence
community lies with the Pentagon, not the Director of Cen-
tral Intelligence.

In 1967, for example. Helms asked Frederick Eaton, a
prominent and conservative New York lawyer, to conduct a
review of the National Security Agency. For some time the
NSA's cost-effectiveness as a contributor to the national
intelligence effort had been highly suspect within the
community, especially in view of the code-breaking agency's
constantly growing budget, which had then risen over the
billion-dollar mark. Eaton was provided with a staff com-
posed of officials from several intelligence offices, including

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 87

the CIA. the State Department, and the Pentagon, and this
staff accumulated substantial evidence that much of the NSA's
intelligence collection was of little or marginal use to the
various intelligence consumers in the community. But Eaton,
after extensive consultation with Pentagon officials, surprised
his own staff by recommending no reductions and conclud-
ing that all of the NSA's programs were worthwhile. The
staff of intelligence professionals rebelled, and Eaton had to
write the conclusions of the review himself.

The lesson of the Eaton study was clear within the intelli-
gence community. The NSA was widely recognized as the
community member most in need of reform, and the profes-
sionals who had studied the matter recommended substantial
change in its programs. Yet Helms' effort to improve the
supersecret agency's performance through the Eaton study
accomplished nothing, and if the Director of Central Intelli-
gence could not. as the professionals said, "get a handle on"
the NSA, then it was highly unlikely that he could ever
influence the expanding programs of the other Pentagon
intelligence agencies.

In 1968 Helms created another select inter-agency group at
the insistence of his staff: the National Intelligence Re-
sources Board (the forerunner of the Intelligence Resources
Advisory Committee). Intended to bring about economies in
the community by cutting certain marginal programs, the
NIRB had more bureaucratic power than any of its predeces-
sors because it was chaired by the Deputy Director of the CIA
and had as members the directors of the Defense Intelli-
gence Agency and the State Department's Bureau of Intelli-
gence and Research. It immediately decided to take a new
look at the NSA's programs, and it singled out a particular
communications-intercept program, costing millions of dol-
lars a year, as particularly wasteful. The NIRB had found
that nearly all intelligence analysts within the community
who had access to the results of the NSA program believed
the data to be of little or no use. These findings were related
to Paul Nitze, then Deputy Secretary of Defense, with the
recommendation that the program be phased out. (The final
decision on continuing the NSA program, of course, had to
be made in the Pentagon, since the NSA is a military intelli-
gence agency.) Nitze did nothing with the recommendation
for several months. Then, as he was leaving office in January
1969, he sent a letter to Helms thanking the DCI for his

88

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

advice but informing him that approval had been given by
Pentagon decision-makers to continue the dubious project.
And despite the NIKB's overwhelming arguments against
the project, Nitze did not even bother to list any reason why
the Pentagon chose not to concur with the decision of the
Director of Central Intelligence.

In the wake of such defeats, Helms gave up on making
attempts at managing the intelligence community. At one
point, months later, he observed to his staff thut while he, as
DCI, was theoretically responsible for 100 percent of the
nation's intelligence activities, he in fact controlled less than
15 percent of the community's assets — and most of the other
8S percent belonged to the Secretary of Defense and the
Joint Chiefs of Staff. Under such circumstances, Helms
concluded, it was unrealistic for any DCI ta think that he could
have a significant influence on U.S. intelligence-resource
decisions or the shaping of the intelligence community.

But when the Nixon administration took over in 1969,
some very [wwerful people, including Defense Secretary
Melvin Laird and the President himself, became concerned
about the seemingly uncontrolled expansion of the Pentagon's
intelligence programs. Laird said in his 1970 Defense budget
statement:

Intelligence is both critical and costly. Yet we have
found intelligence activities, with management overlap-
ping or nonexistent. Deficiencies have provoked criticism
that became known even outside the intelligence com-
munity. These criticisms can be summarized in five prin-
cipal points:

1. Our intelligence product was being evaluated
poorly.'

2. Various intelligence-gathering activities overlapped
and there was no mechanism to eliminate the
overlap.

'Some intelligence was not being evaluated at all. and, as a result, a new
concept, "the linear drawer foot." entered the English language. Trannlatcd
from Pentagonesc. this refers to the amount of paper needed to fill a file
drawer one foot in length. A 1969 House Arms Services Committee rcpon
noted that the Southeast Asia office of the DIA alone had SI7 linear drawer
feet of unanalyzed raw intelligence locked in its vaults.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 89

3. There was no coordinated long-r.inge program for
resource man.Tgemcnt and programming.

4. Significant gaps in intelligence-gathering went
unnoticed.

5. The intelligence community failed to maintain frank
and unrestricted channels of internal communica-
tion.

That same year President Nixon appointed a "blue-ribbon"
panel chaired by Gilbert W. Fitzhugh, chairman of the board
of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, to conduct a
review of the Defense Department's entire operations and
organization. Fitzhugh declared at a July 197U press confer-
ence that his investigation showed that the Pentagon was
"an impossible organization to administer in its present form,
just an amorphous lump " Then turning to military spying,
he stated, "I believe that the Pentagon suffers from too
much intelligence. They can't use what they get because
there is too much collected. It would almost be better that
they didn't have it because it's difficult to find out what's
important." The Fitzhugh panel recommended a series of
economies in Pentagon espionage and also urged that a new
post of Assistant Secretary of Defense for Intelligence be
created. Under this proposal, the various military intelli-
gence agencies, which previously had been scattered all over
the Defense Department's organizational chart, were to be
put under the authority of the new Assistant Secretary, who
in turn would report to Secretary Laird.

By 1971, before the Fitzhugh recommendations were put
into effect, the House Committee on Appropriations had
become aware that military intelligence was in need of a
shake-up. The committee released a little-noticed but blister-
ing report which stated that "the intelligence operations of
the Department of Defense have grown beyond the actual
needs of the Department and are now receiving an inordi-
nate share of the fiscal resources of the Department." The
congressional report continued, "Redundancy is the watch
word of many intelligence operations. . . . Coordination is
less effective than it should be. Far more material is col-
lected than is essential. Material is collected which cannot be
evaluated . . . and is therefore wasted. New intelligence means
have become available . . . without offsetting reductions in
old procedures." With these faults so obvious even to the

90

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

highly conservative and military-oriented congressional
committee, strong reform measures would have seemed to
be in order. But little was done by the Congress to bring the
intelligence community under control. Tlie fear on Capitol
Hill of violating the sacred mystique of "national security"
prevented any effective corrective action.

Fmally. in November 1971, after a secret review of the
intelligence community carried out by the Office of Manage-
ment and Budget's James Schlesinger, who would a year later
be named Director of the CIA, the Nixon administration
announced "a number of management steps to improve the
efficiency and effectiveness" of U.S. intelligence. The President
rep)onedly had been grumbling for some time about the poor
information furnished him by the intelligence community. Most
recently he had been disturbed by the community's blunder in
assuring that American prisoners were being held at the Son
Tay camp in North Vietnam, which during a dramatic rescue
mission by U.S commandos in 1970 was found to be empty.
Nixon was also angered by the failure of intelligence to warn
about the ferocity of the North Vietnamese response to the
South Vietnamese invasion of Laos in early 1971. (In both
these instances the faulty intelligence seems to have come from
the Pentagon,* although there are good reasons to believe
that in the Son Tay case the President's political desire to
make a show of support for the prisoners outweighed the
strong possibility that no prisoners would be found there.)
The President, as the nation's primary consumer of intelli-
gence, felt that he had a right to expect better information.

Whether a President takes great personal interest in
intelligence, as Lyndon Johnson did, or, as in Nixon's case,
delegates most of the responsibility to an aide (Henry
Kissinger), the intelligence field remains very much a private
presidential preserve. Congress has almost completely abdi-
cated any control it might exercise. Thus, when President
Nixon chose to revamp the intelligence structure in 1971, he
did not even bother to consult in advance those few Con-
gressmen who supposedly oversee the intelligence community.

The ostensible objective of the 1971 reorganization was to
improve management of the intelligence community by giv-

'Reporter Tad Szulc. formerly of the New York Times, recalls thai after the
Son Tay raid a CIA official approached him lo emphasize ihai the agency had
played no pari in ihe operation and thai the faulty information had originated
with military intelligence.

The CIA and the Intelligence Community 91

ing the DC! "an enhanced leadership role ... in planning,
reviewing, coordinating, and evaluating all intelligence pro-
grams and activities, and in the production of national
intelligence." Under the Nixon plan, the DCI's powers over
the rest of the community for the first time included the
right to review the budgets of the other members — an un-
precedented step in the tribal federation of intelligence and
one absolutely necessary to the exercise of any meaningful
degree of control.

But with this very same plan to enhance the DCI's
"leadership role," the President was also placing control
over all U.S. intelligence squarely in the National Security
Council staff, still headed today by Henry Kissinger, even
after he also has become Secretary of State. Kissinger was
put in charge of a new NSC Intelligence Committee which
included as members the DCI, the Attorney General, the
Under Secretary of State, the Deputy Secretary of Defense,
and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. This Intelli-
gence Committee was to "give direction and guidance on
national intelligence needs and provide for a continuing evalua-
tion of intelligence products from the viewpoint of the intelli-
gence user." At the same time the President established
another new body, called the Net Assessment Group, under
Kissinger's control, to analyze U.S. military capabilities in
comparison with those of the Soviets and Chinese as esti-
mated by intelligence studies. Already chainnan of the 40
Committee, which passes on all high-risk CIA covert opera-
tions, and the Verification Panel, which is responsible for
monitoring the intelligence related to the S.A.L.T. negotia-
tions and agreements, Kissinger, with his control now as-
serted over virtually all the NSC's key committees, had
clearly emerged as the most powerful man in U.S. intel-
ligence — as well as in American foreign policy.

Yet with Kissinger almost totally occupied with other
matters, the President clearly intended under his November
1971 reorganization that CIA Director Helms take over and
improve the actual management of the intelligence com-
munity — under Kissinger's general supervision, to be sure.
Partly because of the nearly impervious tribalism of the
community and partly because of Helms' pronounced lack of
interest in management and technical matters, the shake-up
had little effect on the well-trenched ways of the community.
Much to the amazement of his staff, Helms did virtually

92 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

nothing to carry out the wishes of the President as contained
in the restructuring order.

Shortly after the 1972 election, Helms was fired by the
President as Director of Central Intelligence. According to
his own testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee, he wanted to stay on the job, but that was not
the wish of the White House. The President's dissatisfaction
with Helms' management of the intelligence community was
certainly a factor in his ouster, as perhaps were Helms'
social connections with liberal Congressmen and journalists
(some of whom were on the White House "enemies" list).

From his earlier work at the Office of Management and
Budget and the Rand Corporation, James Schlesinger apixared
knowledgeable about the problems facing the community and
moved quickly, once he arrived at the CIA to replace Helms,
to set up the bureaucratic structures necessary to exercise con-
trol over the other intelligence agencies. Me created a new
Deputy Director for Community Relations and strengthened
the Intelligence Resources Advisory Committee, but his four-
month tenure was too short to bring about any large-scale re-
form. And nothing in the record of his successor, William
Colby — a clandestine operator for thirty years — indicates that he
has either the management skills or the inclination to bring the
spiraling growth of the intelligence community under control.

Clearly, the CIA is not the hub, nor is its Director the
head, of the vast U.S. intelligence community. The some-
times glamorous, incorrigibly clandestine agency is merely a
part of a much larger interdepartmental federation domi-
nated by the Pentagon. And although the Director of Cen-
tral Intelligence is nominally designated by each President in
turn as the government's chief intelligence advisor, he is in
fact overshadowed in the realities of Washington's politics
by both the Secretary of Defense and the President's own
Assistant for National Security Affairs, as well as by several
lesser figures, such as the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of
Staff. Nevertheless, agency directors and the CIA itself have
managed to survive, and at times even flourished, in the
secret bureaucratic jungle because of their one highly special-
ized contribution to the national intelligence effort. The
CIA's primary task is not to coordinate the efforts of U.S.
intelligence or even to produce finished national intelligence
for the policy-makers. Its job is, for better or worse, to
conduct the government's covert foreign policy.

PART II

4.

SPECIAL OPERATIONS

You have to make up your mind (hat you are
going to have an intclhgence agency and protect it
as such, and shut your eyes some and lake what is
coming.

— SLNAT«R )OHN STI NNIS

Chairman. Joint Senate Coniniiltcc
for CIA Oversight
November 23. 1971

Covert action — intervention in the internal affairs of other
nations — is the most controversial of the CIA's clandestine
functions. It is the invariable means to the most variable
ends. It is basic to the clandestine mentality. And the crudest,
most direct form of covert action is called "special operations."

These activities, mostlyof a paramilitary or warlike nature,
have little of the sophistication and subtlety of political ac-
tion (penetration and manipulation) or propaganda and
disinformation. Although planned by the CIA's professionals,
these operations are to a large extent carried out by agency
contract employees and mercenaries — both American and
foreign. Within the CIA's Clandestine Services, "special ops"
have always been viewed with mixed emotions. Most of the
professionals, especially in recent years, have looked down
on such activities, even while at times recommending their
use. It is widely recognized within the agency, however, that
less direct forms of covert action have their limitations,
especially when timely, conclusive action is thought neces-
sary to put down a troublesome rebel movement or to over-
throw an unfriendly government. In these cases, the CIA
usually calls on its own "armed forces," the Special Opera-
tions Division (SOD), to do the job.

By definition, special ops are violent and brutal; most
clandestine operators prefer more refined techniques. The
CIA professional is a flimflam artist, involved in the creative
challenge of plotting and orchestrating a clandestine cam-

96

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

paign without resorting to violence. In such nonparamilitary
covert action, the operator tends to keep his hands unbloodied,
and his crimes arc of the white-collar variety — conspiracy,
bribery, corruption. His failure or e.xpiisure is normally pun-
ished only with expulsion from the country where he is
operating. He is. in the end, merely engaging in a "gentle-
man's" game The paramilitary operator, on the contrary, is
a gangster who deals in force, in terror, in violence. Failure
can mean death — if not to the operator himself, then to the
agents he has recruited. TTie SOD man wages war, albeit on
a small and secret level, but none of the rules of warfare
apply. His is a breed apart; in the CIA, special ops types are
sometimes referred to as the "animals" of the agency.

In the CIA's early years, and especially during the Korean
war, many paramilitary (PM) specialists, mostly former mili-
tary men, were hired as career ofHcers. Bui the CIA soon
learned that their military skills were not easily transferable
to other types of clandestine work and that most of the PM
experts were next to useless in the bureaucratic and diplo-
matic setting.s in which the agency usually functions. At
times, when special operations were at a low ebb, the agency
had difficulty in finding jobs that the PM specialists could
handle. Hence, during the late 1950s PM manpower was
gradually reduced to a cadre of a couple of hundred opera-
tors capable of doing the planning and the training for
paramilitary operations. When more men were needed, the
agency would hire them on shorl-lerm contracts. Tliese con-
tract forces tended to be a melange of ex-military men,
adventurers, and outright mercenaries; others came to the
CIA on direct loan from the armed services. The U.S.
Army's Special Forces and the counter-guerrilla units of the
Navy (SEALs) and Air Force (SOFs) provided many of the
recuits, since veterans of these branches already possessed
the most up-to-date paramilitary skills. Sometimes these mili-
tary men "resigned" from the service in order to accommo-
date the CIA's cover requirements of their activities, but
they did so with the understanding that eventually they
would return to military service — their time with the CIA
counting toward promotion and retirement. (This process is
known in the intelligence trade as "sheep-dipping.") But the
agency was always careful to keep direct control over the
planning, logistics, and communications of its special or

Special Operations

97

paramilitary operations. The contractees merely did the dirty
work.

The CIA set up training facilities in the United States and
overseas to prepare both its own career operators and the
temporary personnel on contract for paramilitary work. Camp
Peary — "The Farin" — in Koutiieastern Virginia provided the
basic cour»e!i. More advanced techniques, such as demoli-
tions and heavy weapons, were taught at a secret CIA base
in North Carolina. Instruction in parachuting and air opera-
tions was provided at both these facilities and at the head-
quarters of Intermountain Aviation near Tucson. Arizona.
A secret installation in the Canal Zone was the site for
jungle-warfare and survival training. Here the agency's trainees
would play paramilitary war games, pitted against the
6lite of the U.S. Army's Special Forces.

Large-scale paramilitary operations also necessitated spe-
cial training bases for the mercenaries. For the 1954 Guatema-
lan invasion, the CIA built installations in Nicaragua and
Honduras. For the 1961 attack at the Bay of Pigs, sites were
established again in Nicaragua and this time also in Guatemala,
which had become available to the CIA as a result of its
success there seven years earlier. For its Tibetan operations,
the Agency constructed extensive support facilities in North-
east India and brought large numbers of guerrillas to a de-
serted Army base in Colorado for special training. And for its
many Southeast Asia adventures, the Special Operations
Division had "a home away from home" under Navy cover on
the Pacific island of Saipan.

Saipan, however, was not a U..S. possession, but rather a
Trust Territory of the United Nations under U.S. care, and
consequently there was some concern within the agency that
the establishment and operation of a secret military base
there would raise sticky problems in the U.N. But being
masters of the art of cover and deception, the CIA contin-
gent on Saipan merely "sanitized" the base whenever U.N.
representatives visited the island on inspection tours. Accord-
ing to a native of the island, trainees and instructors alike
disappeared; the barbed wire and "no admittance to unautho-
rized personnel" signs were taken down, in a day or so, the
camp was made to appear just like any other jumble of
military quonset huts, which the inspectors ignored. As soon
as they were gone, however, all was returned to normal, and
the CIA's special ops training was begun anew.

One former officer of the CIA's Clandestine Services,

98

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

who was trained in special ops, wrote this account of his
experiences for Ramparts magazine:

The stated purpose of paramilitary school was to train
and equip us to become instructors for village peasants
who wanted to defend themselves against guerrillas. I
could believe in that.

Some of the training was conventional: But then we
moved up to the CIA's demolition training headquarters.
It was here that Cubans had been, and still were [in the
mid-1960s| being trained in conventional and underwater
demolitions. And it was here that we received training
in tactics which hardly conformed to the Geneva
Convention.

The array of outlawed weaponry with which we were
familiarized included bullets that explode on impact,
silencer-equipped machineguns, homemade explosives
and self-made napalm for stickier and hotter Molotov
cocktails. We were taught demolition techniques, prac-
ticing on late model cars, railroad trucks, and gas stor-
age tanks. And we were shown a quick method of
saturating a confined area with flour or fertilizer, caus-
ing an explosion like in a dustbin or granary.

And there was a diabolical invention that might be
called a mini-cannon. It was constructed of a concave
piece of steel fitted into the top of a # 10 can filled with
a plastic explosive. When the device was detonated, the
tremendous heat of friction of the steel turning inside
out made the steel piece a white-hot projectile. There
was a number of uses for the mini-cannon, one of which
was demonstrated to us using an old army school bus. It
was fastened to the gasoline tank in such a fashion that
the incendiary projectile would rupture the tank and
fling flaming gasoline the length of the bus interior,
incinerating anyone inside. It was my lot to show the
rest of the class how easily it could be done. It worked,
my God, how it worked. I stood there watching the
flames consume the bus. It was, I guess, the moment of
truth. What did a busload of burning people have to do
with freedom? What right did I have, in the name of
democracy and the CIA, to decide that random victims
should die? The intellectual game was over. I had to
leave.

Special Operations

99

The heavy reliance on paramilitary methods in the CIA's
special operations is a direct outgrowth of the clandestine
guerrilla programs undertaken by the Office of Strategic
Services during World War II. The OSS. like its British
counterpart. Special Operations Executive, made extensive
use of indigenous underground resistance movements to sab-
otage the activities of German and Japanese armed forces in
the occupied countries and to foment national unrest in
these areas. In running such operations, the OSS officers
performed as advisors and acted as channels for communica-
tions and support from the Albed powers. Basic to the
success of the OSS operations was the fact that the countries
in which it conducted its covert activities were under the
military control of foreign armies despised by native resis-
tance forces. Even so, the resistance movements in most
occupied countries enjoyed limited success until the regular
Allied forces had won sufficient victories to force the Axis
powers into an essentially defensive strategy of protecting
their homelands.

During the early postwar years, as we have noted, the
CIA's initial reaction to the Cold War was to employ the
wartime tactics of the OSS in new efforts to organize and
promote paramilitary resistance movements in such areas as
Albania, the Ukraine, and other parts of Eastern Europe.
Almost all of these operations were complete failures. (Similar
setbacks occurred in agency paramilitary operations against
China and North Korea.) The controlling military forces in
Eastern Europe, although supported by the Soviet Union,
were for the most part of native origin — often directed by
the same political elements that had cooperated with the
OSS and other Allied intelligence services in the prior strug-
gle against the Nazi occupiers. Despite a large amount of
disenchantment with the communist regimes on the part of
the indigenous populations, which the CIA grossly misinter-
preted as revolutionary fervor, the war-weary populations
were not willing to join, in significant numbers, resistance
groups with little chance of success. And under the prevail-
ing political circumstances of the times, there was little likeli-
hood of eventual overt military support from the U.S. armed
forces. Thus, the Eastern European governments, with their
rigid internal-security systems, were easily able to thwart
CIA paramilitary efforts against them.

In those areas of the world not under communist domina-

100

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

lion, however, the CIA's clandestine paramilitary opera-
tions fared somewhat better, at least during the early 19SOs.
But unlike the OSS, which had supported partisan groups
fighting against fascist-dominated governments, the CIA more
often than not found itself in the position of supporting the
counterinsurgency efforts of established regimes threatened
from the left by local guerrilla movements. Blinded by its fear
and distrust of communism, the CIA had gradually drifted into
a posture whereby its paramilitary operations were in support
of the status quo. The agency, in pursuit of "stability" and
"orderly change." increasingly associated itself with protect-
ing vested interests. In the view of much of the world, it had
become a symbol of repression rather than freedom. While the
CIA's paramilitary activities were at times successful, many
of the victories won took on a Pyrrhic quality. They always
seemed to work against legitimate social and political change —
for which the U.S. government would in later years be held
accountable by the peoples of these countries.

During the first years of its existence and particularly after
the outbreak of the Korean war in 1950, the CIA recruited
and trained large numbers of officers for special operations.
Many were, of course, intended for service in Korea, but the
Amencan commander there. General Douglas Mac Arthur,
was not particularly fond of clandestine paramilitary opera-
tions, and he did his best to keep the CIA's special-ops
experts out of his theater. The agency did nevertheless man-
age to launch a large number of secret operations, resulting
in the loss of numerous Korean agents and few, if any,
meaningful gains.

With its newly expanded staff, the CIA's Special Opera-
tions Division was able to turn its attention to other coun-
tries In Asia Attempts were made to develop resistance
movements in China, but these efforts accomplished virtu-
ally nothing more than the capture of agency officers John
Downey and Richard Fecteau — and death for the National-
ist Chinese agents they were helping to infiltrate. Mainland
China, like Eastern Europe, was not fertile territory for
agency operations.

There were some successes elsewhere. The Huk insurgency
in the Philippines was put down with CIA help. Agency-
supported Nationalist China troops in Burma (when not
engaging in their principal pastime of trafficking in opium) were

Special Operations

101

induced to conduct occasional raids into the hinterland of
Communist China. In South Vietnam the CIA played ii large
part in consolidating the power of the Diem regime — and this
was considered by the agency to be a major accomplishment.

Such gains in Southeast Asia were offset by some rather
notable failures, most particularly the agency's inability to
overthrow President Sakamo of Indonesia in 19S8. While
this ClA-supporlcd revoH wan going on, the U.S. govern-
ment categorically domed providing any support to the anti-
Sukarno forces. In March 1958. Secretary of State John Foster
Dulles told a congressional committee that "wc are not inter-
vening in the internal affairs of this country." Six weeks later
President Eisenhower stated that while "soldiers of fortune"
probably were involved in the affair, "our policy is one of care-
ful neutrality and proper deportment all the way through so as
not to be taking sides where it is not of our business." These
statements were of course false The Indonesian government
put little credence in the denials and denounced the United
States for its intervention The New York Times, however,
chose to believe the official American version and indignantly
scolded the Indonesians for circulating false reports saying that
the U.S. government was giving aid to the rebels. The Times
commented that the Secretary of State and "the President
himseir' had denied American involvement, and that "the
United States is not ready ... to step in to help overthrow
a constituted government." The pattern of lying to cover up
failure was established; it would find further manifestation
during the U-2 affair, and again at the Bay of Pigs.

In 1959 the CIA found another opportunity to engage in
special ops when the Tibetans revolted against the Chinese
communists who eight years before had imposed their rule
on the mountain kingdom. Sparked by Peking's move to
replace the Dalai Lama. Tibet's traditional religious and tem-
poral ruler, with the Panchen Lama, an important religious
leader controlled by the Chinese, there was a short-lived
uprising. After its failure, the Dalai Lama with several thousand
followers and troops escaped to India, where he and his
loyalists were granted sanctuary. Then,

2V] LINES DELETED

takpi on a tour of friendly Asian and European capitals as
living, though somewhat incongruous proof — since he was

102

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

hiimeir an autocrat — or Communist China's totalitarianism.

Later, he uas brought to the United States for a visit, during
which he appeared at the United Nations to plead his case
and to denounce the Peking government.

2 LINES DELETED

special ops ofTicer; began secretly training and reequipping
the Dalai Lama's Iroopfi— rearsome Khamba horsemen— in
preparation for eventual clandestine Torays into Tibet. Some
or the Tibetans were quietly brought to the United States for
special paramilitary training at Camp Hale, Colorado.

Although the CIA ofHcers led their Tibetan trainees to
believe that they were being readied for the reconquering of
their homeland, even within the agency few saw any real
chance that this could happen. Some of the covert operators
who worked directly with the Tibetans, however, eventually
came to believe their own persuasive propaganda. Years
later, they would Hush with anger and frustration describing
how they and their Tibetans had been undone by the bureau-
crats back in Washington.* Several of them would turn for
solace to the Tibetan prayers which they had learned during
their years with the Dalai Lama.

From the beginning of the Tibetan operation, it was dear
that its only value would be one of harassment. Spot raids
■gainst Chinese facilities in the backward mountain country
were an annoyance to Peking and a reminder of its vulnera-
bility. But the dream of reoccupying the land and reestablish-
ing the Dalai Lama as its political ruler was an impossible
one.

The guerrilla raids of the Dalai Lama's forces into Tibet,
planned by CIA operators and on occasion led by agency
contract mercenaries, were supported and covered by
"private" planes of the Civil Air Transport complex, a CIA
proprietary which was also instrumental in secretly supplying
weapons ( DELETED ) part, the raids ac-

complished little beyond giving the Tibetan troops some
temporary satisfaction and fanning their hopes that someday

'This phenomenon of "cmolional attachment" is not rare in the clandestine
business, but it is particularly prevalent in special operations. The officers
who engage in special ops often have a deep psychological need to belong and
believe This, coupled with the dangers and hardships Ihcy »Hllingly endure,
tends 10 drive them to support extreme causes and seek unattainable goals.

Special Operations

103

they would lead a true invasion of their homeland. Commu-
nication lines were cut, some sabota|;e was carried out, and
from lime to lime an ambush of a small Chinese communist
force was undertaken.

One such ambush resulted in an intelligence windfall. The
Tibetans had waylaid a small military convoy on a lonely
mountain road and were preparing to put the torch to the
Chinese vehicles when it was discovered that one of them
contained several mailbags. A quick examination disclosed
that in addition to the routine mix of general correspondence,
the mail included ofTicial government and military docu-
ments being delivered from China proper. The mailbags
were salvaged and returned to India by the Tibetan guerrillas,
where they were turned over to the CIA operatives working
on the operation. The contents of the mailbags were later
analyzed in detail by the agency's China experts in Langley,
Virginia. Data and insights as to the status of the Chinese
occupation of Tibet were found in abundance: while difficul-
ties were being encountered in imposing communist rule on
the feudal system of the mountain nation, it was clear that
the Chinese were in full control of the situation and were
determined to have their way. Even more interesting to the
agency's China watchers, however, was authentic background
Information revealing that Mao Tse-tung's "Great Leap
Forward" had failed in several crucial respects to achieve its
goal of raising China from the depths of underdevelopment.
As incredible as it may seem in retrospect, some of the
CIA's economic analysts (and many other officials in
Washington) were in the early 1960s still inclined to accept
much of Peking's propaganda as to the success of Mao's
economic experiment. The acquisition of the Tibetan docu-
ments was a significant contribution to the resolution of this
particular debate within the U.S. intelligence community.

Without any other noteworthy gains, the Tibetan opera-
tion sputtered hopelessly on. A few years later, at the end of
1964, the Chinese removed the Panchen Lama from power,
setting off another minor revolt. But the Dalai Lama's CIA-
trained troops, now more than five years in exile in India,
were unable to come to the rescue of their countrymen.
With the CIA's Bay of Pigs defeat still fresh in American
minds, there was little interest in Washington in supporting
the dreams of the Khamba horsemen. Gradually the Tibetan
operation atrophied. By the late 1960s the CIA's clandestine

104

The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

operatives were interested only in seeking a graceful way
to terminate their association with the Dalai Lama and his
aging, now useless troops.

The Tibetan operation was soon overshadowed and suc-
ceeded by CIA involvement in the Congo. The chaotic strife
which gripped that country almost from the moment it be-
came independent of Belgian rule provided the CIA, along
with intelligence services of many other countries, with fer-
tile ground for special opcr.itions. The U.S. government's
intent was to promote a stable pro-Western regime that
would protect foreign investments, and the CIA was given
much of the responsibility for carrying out this policy. At
Ant tbe agencv's covert activiiks were confined to political
■unipHlatioo and cash payments to selected politicians, but
as tbie CoagotcM political scene became more and more
unraveled, the agfiitcy seal its paramilitary experts and mer-
coiarics to support the new government. By 1964, CIA B-26
aircraft fiowa by Cuban pilots under contract with the CIA
were carrying out regular bombing missions agaiml rebel
areas. Later, in 1966, the New York Times would describe the
CIA planes as "an instant air force." While the agency was
not completely happy with this publicity, many operators
were pleased with the newspaper's recognition of the CIA's
skill in putting the operation together on comparatively short
notice.

Relying in large part on the considerable assistance fur-
nished by the CIA and other U.S. government agencies, the
central Congolese government under President Mobutu was
finally able to impose some degree of stability throughout
the country.

3 LINES DELETED

During the years when the Tibetan and Congolese pro-
grams were in full operation, the CIA and its Special Opera-
tions Division were already becoming increasingly preoccupied
with Southeast Asia. In Laos, agency operators were organiz-
ing a private army (L'Arm6e Clandestine) of more than
30,000 men and building an impressive string of bases through-
out the country. A few of these bases were used as jumping-
oir points to send guerrilla raiding parlies into North Viet-
nam and China.

Special Operations

105

The secret war in Laos was viewed within the CIA with
much more favor than the huge military struggle that eventu-
ally developed in Vietnam. The fighting was not highly visi-
ble to the American public or the world. In fact, the Laotian
war was years along before the U.S. Congress even became
aware it was going on. In Laos the CIA was in complete
control, but at no time were more than forty of fifty opera-
tions officers required to direct the paramilitary effort. The
dirty and dangerous work — the ground fighting — was han-
dled by hundreds of agency contract personnel and more
than 30,000 Lao tribesmen under the leadership of General
Vang Pao — whom the CIA from time to time secretly decor-
ated with "intelligence" medals. The CIA's Laotian forces
were augmented by thousands of Thai "volunteers" paid by
the agency. Air support, an extremely dangerous business in
Laos, was supplied by Air America — a CIA-owned airline —
and on occasion by the Thai Air Force. Thus, while the
CIA's special-ops officers masterminded the war and called
all the shots, largely from the Laotian capital of Vientiane or
from secure bases upcountry, most were not required to run
the physical risks of war. The Laotian operation was, as
special operations go. a near-perfect situation for the career
officer.

Meanwhile, in Vietnam the CIA supported and financed a
force of roughly 45,000 Civilian Irregular Defense Guards
(CIDGs). local guerrilla troops who fought under the opera-
tional direction of the U.S. Army's Special Forces. SOD
operators and agency contractees ran the Counter Terror
teams which employed similar methods to oppose the
Vietcong's terror tactics of kidnapping, torture, and murder.
The agency also organized guerrilla raids against North
Vietnam, with special emphasis on intrusions by sea-borne
commando groups coming "over the beach" on specially
designed, heavily armed high-speed PT-type boats. At least
one such CIA raiding party was operating in that part of the
Tonkin Gulf in 1964 where two U.S. destroyers allegedly
came under attack by North Vietnamese ships. These CIA
raids may well have specifically provoked the North Viet-
namese action against the destroyers, which in turn led to
the passage of the Tonkin Gulf resolution by the U.S. Con-
gress in 1964, thus setting the stage for large-scale American
military involvement in Indochina.

The CIA's special operations in Southeast Asia were mas-

106

The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

sive in scale and an important part of the overall U.S. war
effort. Many of these operations are described in detail in
the U.S. government documents published in The Pentagon
Papers. Neverthcle;^, a few operations not mentioned therein
deserve particular note.

One involved the Nungs. a national minority of Chinese
hill people who fought on the French side in the first Viet-
nam war and then came south in large numbers after 1954.
The Nungs were known to be extremely fierce fighters, and
they became a favorite source of manpower for CIA opera-
tions in South Vietnam. In fact, casual observers could nearly
always spot secret CIA installations in the Vietnamese prov-
inces by the Nung guards out front, dressed invariably in
jungle camouflage uniforms.

In addition, Nung mercenaries were often sent by the CIA
on foray; along the Mo Chi Minh trail. Their function was to
observe North Vietnamese and Vietcong supply movements
and on occasion to make attacks against convoys, or to carry
out sabotage on storage depots. Since nasi of the Nnofs
were illilcrale aa4 had great diffkuhy in seiKling back quick,
accurate reports of what they saw, Ibc CIA technicians devel-
oped a special kind of radio Iransmiller for their unc. Each
Iransmiller had a set of buttons corresponding to pictures of
a lank, a truck, an artillery piece, or some other military-
related object. When the Nung trail watcher saw a Vietcong
conToy, he would push the appropriate button as many
times as he counted such objects go by him. Each push sent
a specially coded ioipuise back to a base camp which could
in this way keep a running account of supply movements on
the trail. In some instances the signals would be recorded by
observation planes that would relay the information to at-
tack aircraft for immediate bombing raids on the trail.

The Nung units made special demands on their CIA case
officers, and consequently they cost the agency about 100
times as much per soldier as the Meos fighting in the CIA's
L'Armee Clandestine in Laos, who could be put into the
field for less than ten cents per man per day. The higher cost
for the Nungs' services was caused by their unwillingness to
go into remote regions under agency command unless they
were regularly supplied with beer and prostitutes — thus the
agency had no choice but to provide flying bar and brothel
services. Even though one of the CIA's own airlines, Air
America, handled this unusual cargo, the cost of the air

Special Operations

107

support was still high. Tlie CIA's ca&e officers would have
preferred to give the Nungs whiskey, which, while more
expensive to buy, was considerably lighter and hence cheaper
to fly in, but the Nungs would fight only for beer. The
prostitutes also presented a special problem because the
agency did not want to compromise the secrecy of the opera-
tions by supplying women from local areas who might be
able to talk to the Nungs. Thus, Air America brought in
only prostitutes from distant parts of Southeast Asia who
had no language in common with the Nungs.

With their characteristic enthusiasm for gimmicks and
gadgetry, the CIA came up with two technical discoveries in
the mid-1960s that were used in Vietnam with limited success
but great delight. The first was a chemical substance origi-
nally developed for oil drilling thai when mixed with mud
increased the mud's slipperiness. The agency hoped to be
able to drop the chemical on the Ho Chi Minh trail during
the rainy season in order to cause mud slides and block the
supply route. In actual practice, however, whatever damage
was caused by the chemical was quickly repaired by the
Vietcong and North Vietnamese.

The agency's other discovery was a weapons-detection
system. It worked by spraying a special chemical on the
hands of a suspected Vietcong and then, after a few minutes,
shining an ultraviolet light on his hands. If the chemical
glowed in a certain manner, that meant that the suspect had
held a metal object — in theory, a weapon — during the pre-
ceding twenty-four hours. The system's main drawback was
that it was just as sensitive to steel farm implements as to
guns and it could implicate a person who had been merely
working with a hammer. The CIA considered the system
such a success, however, that it passed it on through a
domestic training program to the police forces of several
American cities.

17 LINES DELETED

Latin America in 1954 was the scene of one of the CIA's
greatest paramilitary triumphs — the successful invasion of
Guatemala by an agency-organized rebel force. And it was
in Latin America that the CIA seven years later suffered its
most notable failure — the abortive invasion of Cuba at the
Bay of Pigs. But the agency was slow to accept defeat in the

108

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

Cuban operation. The only reason for the failure, the CIA's
operators believed, was that President Kennedy had lost his
nerve at the last minute, refusing more air support for the
invasion and withholding or reducing other possible assis-
tance by U.S. forces. Consequently, the agency continued its
relationships with its "penetrations" of Cuban exile groups — in
a way reminiscent of its lingering ties with Eastern European
^migr^ organizations from the early Cold War period. And
the CIA kept many of the Bay of Pigs veterans under contract,
paying them regular salaries for more than a decade afterward.

The failure at the Bay of Pigs did not prevent the CIA
from conducting guerrilla activities against Cuba. The
agency's operational hoses in the United States were still
intact, and these bases were used to launch numerous raids
against Cuba. The agency smuggled men, arms, equipment,
and money onto the island by sea and air, but Castro's
forces almost always either captured or killed the invaders
and their contacts inside Cuba. Time after time, the Cuban
government would parade CIA-sponsored rebels before tele-
vision cameras to display them and their equipment to the
Cuban public and the world. Often the captives made full
confessions of the agency's role in their activities.

Nevertheless, the CIA kept looking for new and better
ways to attack the Castro government. Under contract to the
a|;cncy, the Electric Boat Division of General Dynamics at
Groton, Connecticut, developed a highly mancuverable high-
speed boat designed for use by guerrilla raiders. The boat
was supposed to be Faster than any ship in the Cuban navy,
and thereby able to move arms and men into Cuba at will.
There were numerous delays in putting the boat into
production, however, and no deliveries were made up to
1967. By that time, the U.S. was too deeply involved in
Southeast Asia to think seriously about a new invasion of
Cuba. The CIA, therefore, quietly dropped the boat project
and turned the development model over to the U.S. Navy.

Also during the mid-1960s,

9V2 LINES DELETED

By 1968, almost everyone in the Clandestine Services had
finally accepted the fact that special operations against Cuba
had outlived their usefulness. To be sure, there were still
some diehard veterans around who would continue to pro-

Special Operations

109

pose new schemes, but even "Frank Bender" — the heavy-
accented, cigar-smoking German refugee who had helped
manage the Bay of Pigs fiasco — could no longer bring him-
self to believe in them. The death knell for CIA Cuban
operations was sounded that year, seven years after the Bay
of Pigs, when the agency closed down its two largest bases in
Florida. One of these, located on an old naval air station at
Opalocka, had served as an all-purpose base for CIA-
sponsored raids on Cuba.

3 LINES DELETED

While the CIA was largely concerned with Cuba in its
Latin American operations during much of the I96()s, the rest
of the continent was by no means neglected. For the most
part, the agency's aim was not to overthrow particular Latin
American governments but rather to protect them from local
insurgent movements. The CIA generally avoided getting
involved in any large way, instead using relatively small
amounts of covert money, arms, and advisors to fight leftish
groups. While this switch in tactics reflected the counterinsur-
gency theories popular in the Kennedy and Johnson adminis-
trations, it also came as a result of the diversion of a substantial
part of the nation's military resources — covert and otherwise —
to Southeast Asia.

The CIA assumed the role of coordinator of all U.S.
government counterinsurgency activities in Latin America,
and other agencies — particularly AID, with its police-training
programs, and the Defense Department, with its military-
assistance and civic-action programs — provided the CIA with
cover and additional resources. Much of the agency's man-
power for Latin American special operations was furnished
by the U.S. Army's Special Forces; small detachments of
Green Berets were regularly placed under CIA control. These
soldiers usually came from the Third Battalion of the Sev-
enth Special Forces, located at Fort Gulick in the Canal
Zone. This agency had its own paramilitary base in the
Canal Zone, and even when the Special Forces carried on
missions outside the CIA's direct command, agency opera-
tors kept in close touch with what was going on. Since 1962
more than 600 Special Forces "mobile training teams" have
been dispatched to the rest of Latin America from Fort

1 10 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

Gulick. either under direct CIA control or under Pentagon
auspices. Green Berets participated, for example, in what
was the CIA's single large-scale Latin American intervention
of the post-Bay of Pigs era. This occurred in the mid-196Qs,
when the agency secretly came to the aid of the Peruvian
government, then plagued by guerrilla troubles in its remote
eaxtem regions. Unable to cope adequately with the insur-
gent movement, Lima had turned to the U.S. government
for aid, which was immediately and covertly forthcoming.

The agency financed the construction of w hat one experi-
enced observ er described as "a miniature F'ort Bragg" in the
troubled Peruvian jungle region, complete with mess halls,
dasKTooms, barrscks, adminutralive buildings, parachute jump
towers, amphibious landing facilities, and all the other accou-
trements of paramilitary operations. Helicopters were fur-
nished under cover of official military aid programs, and the
CIA llew in arms and other combat equipment. Training
was provided by the agency's Special Operations Division
personnel and by Green Beret instructors on loan from the
Army.

As the training progressed and the proficiency of the
cnunterguerrilla troops increased, the Peruvian government
grew uneasy. Earlier, the national military commanders had
been reluctant to provide personnel for the counter-insurgency
force, and thus the CIA had been required to recruit its
fighting manpower from among the available local populace.
By paying higher wages than the army (and offering fringe
benefits, better training, and "esprit de corps") the agency
soon developed a relatively efTicient fighting force. In short
order, the local guerrillas were largely wiped out.

A few months later, when Peru was celebrating its chief
national holiday, the authorities refused to allow the. CIA-
trained troops into the capital for the annual military parade.
Instead, they had to settle for marching through the streets
of a dusty provincial town, in a satellite observance of the
great day. Realizing that many a Latin American regime had
been toppled by a crack regiment, Peru's leaders were un-
willing to let the CIA force even come to Lima, and the
government soon moved to dismantle the unit.

As large and successful as the CIA's Peruvian operation
might have been, it was outweighed in importance among
agency leaders by a smaller intervention in Bolivia that

Special Operations

111

occurred in 1967; for the CIA was out for bigger game
in Bolivia than jiwl local insurgents. The target was Che
Guevara.

The Tracking of Che

When he vanished from the Cuban scene in the spring of
1965, there were reports that Ernesto "Che" Guevara, the
Argentinian physician and comrade-in-arms of Fidel Castro,
had challenged the Cuban leader's authority and, as a result,
had been executed or imprisoned. There were other reports
that Guevara had gone mad, beyond all hope of recovery,
and was under confinement in a villa somewhere in the
Cuban provinces. And there were still other reports that
Che had formed a small cadre of dedicated disciples and had
gone off to make a new revolution. At first no one in the
CIA knew what to believe. But eventually a few clues to
Guevara's whereabouts began to dribble in from the agency's
field stations and bases. They were fragmentary, frustrat-
ingly flimsy, and, surprisingly, they pointed to Africa — to
the Democratic Republic of the Congo, now called Zaire.
Yet another insurrection was going on in the former Belgian
colony, and information from the CIA's operatives in the
field indicated that foreign revolutionaries were participating
in it. Some of their tactics suggested the unique style of Che
Guevara.

Before the intelligence could be verified, however, the
rebellion in the eastern inland territories suddenly evaporated.
By the fall of 1965, Lake Tanganyika was again calm. But the
CIA mercenaries (some of them veterans of the Bay of Pigs
operation), who had been assisting the Congo government in
repressing the revolt, were convinced, as were their agency
superiors in Africa, that Che had indeed been in the area.

Later it was learned by the CIA that Guevara and a group
of more than 100 Cuban revolutionaries had infiltrated into
the Congo from neighboring Tanzania in the spring of 1965.
They intended to set. Africa aflame with rebellion, but their
revolutionary zeal was not matched by that of the native
guerrillas or the local populace. In disgust, six months later
Che secretely returned to Cuba to lay plans for his next
adventure. At the time, however, the CIA knew only that
he had once again disappeared. Again conflicting reports as
to his whereabouts and status, health and otherwise, began

112

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

10 drift into the agency. By early 1%7, almost a year and a
half later, the information available to the agency pointed to
the heart of South America, to Bolivia.

While many of the officers in the CIA's Clandestine Ser-
vices firmly believed that Guevara was behind the insurgent
movement in the southern mountains of Bolivia, a few of the
agency's top officials hesitated to accept the fact. Despite
the air of doubt, some agency special operations pcriionnel
wtTt sent to the land-locked South American country to
assist local forces in dealing with the rebel movement.
Ironically, at this point not even Bolivian President Reni
Barrientos thought that Guevara was involved in the guer-
rilla movement.

A couple of months later, in April, two events occurred
that dramatically underscored the belief of the CIA's clandes-
tine operators, both in Bolivia and at headquarters, that Che
was leading the rebels. Early in the month a Bolivian army
unit overran the base camp of the guerrillas at Nancahuazii,
capturing documents, diaries, and photographs which the
fleeing insurgents had left behind. Included in the materials
seized at the guerrilla base camp were photographs of a
partially bald, gray-haired man with glasses who. upon close
examination of certain features, bore a striking resemblance
to Che Guevara. In addition, a couple of smudged finger-
prints on some of the documents seemed to match Guevara's.
The documents, furthermore, clearly established that a num-
ber of the guerrillas operating in Bolivia were Cubans, proba-
bly some of the same men who were thought to have been
with Guevara in the Congo.

Ten days later Regis Debray, the leftist French journalist,
who had disappeared months earlier upon arriving in Bolivia
to do a geopolitical study, was captured near Muyupampa,
along with two other foreigners suspected of having been in
contact with the rebels. According to his statements months
later, the journalist Debray was saved from summary execu-
tion by the CIA men accompanying the Bolivian forces who
captured him. Afterward he was confronted with secret evi-
dence by these same CIA operatives, disclosing that the
agency knew a great deal more about his activities abroad
and in Bolivia than he had thought possible. Denying, at
first, any knowledge of Guevara's connection with the rebel
movement, Debray soon wilted and began to talk in an
attempt to save himself from trial and execution.

Special Operations

113

Even with the rapidly mounting evidence. Director Rich-
ard Helms still could not accept that the legendary Cuban
revolutionary had indeed reappeared to lead another rebellion.
He scoffed at the claims of his clandestine operatives that
they had acquired proof of Guevara's presence in Bolivia;
Helms guessed Che was probably dead. Thomas Karames-
sines, then chief of the CIA's Clandestine Services, who had
presented the case to the Director, would not, however,
back down from the contention that his operatives were now
hot on Guevara's trail, and Helms' attitude seemed to spur
the clandestine operators to greater efforts. More agency
"advisors," iiidudiii|> Cuban veterans of the Bay of Pigs
adventure, were soon dispatched to Bolivia to assist in the
tracking down of Guevara. A team of experts from the
Army's Special Forces was sent to La Paz from the Canal
Zone to train Bolivian "rangers" in the art of counterinsur-
gency operations.

The Clandestine Services were obsessed with Guevara,
and even somewhat fearful of him. He was in part a constant
and irritating reminder of their failure in the Cuban operation.
Unable to vent their frustrations and anger against those
U.S. officials who had undercut that desperate effort, and
incapable of gaining direct retribution by destroying Fidel
himself or his Soviet and Chinese allies, the CIA's Clandes-
tine Services were left to brood over their failure — until
Guevara exposed himself. In so doing he presented himself
to the CIA as an inviting target; his capture or death would
provide some measure of revenge for past failures.

During the summer of 1967, while the agency's special ops
experts were assisting the Bolivian army in hunting down
Guevara, information as to his entry into Bolivia became
available. It was learned that in November 1966 he had come
to La Paz from Havana, via Prague, Frankfurt, and Sao
Paulo, traveling on a false Uruguayan passport and disguised
as a balding, gray-haired merchant with horn-rimmed spec-
tacles — a far cry from the familiar poster picture. He had
been preceded by fifteen Cubans who would assist him in his
Bolivian venture. There was no longer any doubt in anyone's
mind that Che Guevara was in the country and in charge of
the guerrilla movement in the southern mountains. Both
President Barrientos and Helms now accepted the fact. The
Bolivian government offered a reward (S4,200) for Guevara —

114

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

dead or alive. It was only a matter of time until Che would
be run into the ground.

In the months that followed, the guerrillas suffered defeat
after defeat at the hands of the American-trained, CIA-
advised Bolivian rangers. One battle, on the last day of
August, resulted in the death of the mysterious Tania, the
lone female in Guevara's rebel band. Although she evidently
was a Cuban mtcliigence agent, a link between the guerrillas
and Havana, it was rumored by the CIA that the East
German woman was actually a double agent. Her employer
supposedly was the Soviet KGB, which, like the CIA, wanted
to keep tabs on Guevara's Cuban-sponsored revolutionary
activities in Latin America. Less than six weeks later, on
October K, Guevara himself was wounded und captured near
the small mountain village of La Higuera.

As they had done for Debray earlier, the CIA advisors
with the Bolivian army tried to bring Guevara back alive to
La Paz for in-depth interrogations. The Bolivian commander,
however, was under orders to execute Guevara. All that was
to be brought back were the head and hands — incontestable
proof that Che had failed in his mission and was dead.

While the CIA advisors stalled the Bolivian colonel, the
agency's station chief in La Paz tried to convince President
Barnentos of the long-range advantages of bringing Guevara
out of the mountains as a prisoner of the government.
Barrientos was adamant. He argued that the Debray affair
had caused enough difficulty, and that the arrival of Che
Guevara, alive, in the capital might spark disturbances among
the students and leftists which his government would not be
able to control. In desperation, the station that night ap-
pealed to Langley headquarters for assistance, but to no
avail.

Going on the assumption that neither the station nor
headquarters would be successful in getting Barrientos to
change his position, the Senior CIA operative at La Higuera,
(DELETED) attempted to question Che. The revolutionary,
however, would not cooperate. He was willing to discuss
p>olitical philosophies and revolutionary movements in general,
but he refused to permit himself to be interrogated about the
details of his operation in Bolivia or any of his previous
guerrilla activities elsewhere. The CIA would have to settle
for the contents of his personal diary, which he had been
carrying at the time of his capture.

Special Operations

115

Final word came from the capital early the next morning.
The prisoner was to be executed on the spot and his body,
strapped to the landing gear of a helicopter, was to be flown
to Vallegrande for inspection at a local laundry house by a
small group of reporters and government offlcials. After-
ward the corpse was to be buried in an unmarked grave
outside of town. On hearing the order, (DELETED) the
CIA operative, hurried back to the schoolhouse where
Guevara was being held, to make one last attempt at interro-
gating Che. There was not much time left; the execution was
to be carried out in the next hour or two.

Guevara's last moments were recorded in a rare, touching
message to headquarters from the CIA operator. The Cuban
veteran, and agency contract officer, noted that Guevara
was at first still confident of somehow surviving his ordeal,
but when he finally realized that he was about to die, his
pipe fell from his mouth. Che, however, quickly recovered
his comp>osure and asked for some tobacco. His painfully
wounded leg no longer seemed to bother him. He accepted
his fate with a sigh of resignation, requesting no last favors.
(DELETED) clearly felt admiration for the revolutionary
and compassion for the man he had helped to capture and
thereby condemn. Minutes later Che Guevara was dead.

The following summer Che's diary suddenly surfaced and
soon found its way into the hands of his comrades in Havana
and certain American admirers (Rampart! magazine), who
immediately verified its authenticity and published it, much
to the chagrin of the CIA and the Bolivian government,
which had been releasing only those portions which but-
tressed their case against Guevara and his rebels. In the
midst of the confusion, charges, and countercharges, Anto-
nio Arguedas, Bolivian Minister of the Interior, disappeared
in July among rumors that he had been the one who had
released the document. Arguedas, as Minister of the Interior,
was in charge of the Bolivian intelligence service, with which
the agency had many close connections. And Arguedas him-
self was an agent of the CIA.

It was quickly learned that Arguedas had escaped to Chile,
where he intended to ask for political asylum. Instead, au-
thorities there turned him over to the CIA station, and the
agency man who had been his original case officer was
dispatched from headquarters to Washington to cool him
off. But despite the CIA's counsel, Arguedas spoke out

116

The CIA and the Cult o f Intelligence

publicly against the agency and its activities in Bolivia. He
denounced the Barrientus regime as a tool of American
imperialism, criticized the government's handling of the
Guevara affair, and then disappeared again, precipitating a
major political crisis in Bolivia.

At various times during the next several months of 1968,
Arguedas popped up in London, New York, and Peru.
Alternately cajoled and threatened at each stop by CIA
operatives who wanted him to shut up, the former minister
nevertheless admitted he had been the one who had released
Che's diary because, he said, he agreed with the revolu-
tionary's motives of attempting to bring about popular social,
political, and economic change in Bolivia and elsewhere in
Latin America. And ultimately, much to the horror of the
CIA and the Barrientos government, Arguedas announced
that he had been an agent of the CIA since 1965 and claimed
that certain other Bolivian officials were also in the pay of
the secret agency. He described the circumstances under
which he had been recruited, charging that the CIA had
threatened to reveal his radical student past and ruin his
political career if he did not agree to participate in its
operations.

Eventually the CIA was able to strike a bargain with
Arguedas, and he voluntarily returned to Bolivia — apparently
to stand trial. He told a New York Times reporter on the
flight from Lima to La Paz that should anything untoward
happen to him, a tape recording detailing his accusations
against the CIA and the Barrientos government would be
delivered to certain parties in the United States and Cuba.
The tape, he said, was being held for him by Lieutenant
Mario Ter^n. Terin, inexplicably, was previously identified
as Che Guevara's executioner.

Arguedas, during his interview, hinted at the magnitude
of his potential revelations by disclosing the names of several
CIA officers with whom he had worked in the past: Hugo
Murray, chief of station; John S. Hilton, former COS; Colo-
nel Ed Fox; Larry Stemfield; and Nick Lendiris. He also
identified some of the agency's contract oflicers who had
assisted in the tracking down of Guevara: J olio Gabriel
Garcia (Cuban), and Eddie and Mario Gonzales (Bolivians).
Arguedas credited the Gonzales brothers with having saved
Debray's life. He now claimed, however, that Barrientos
and even the U.S. ambassador were unaware of the full

Special Operations

117

scope of the CIA's penetration of the Bolivian government,
undoubtedly a concession to the powers that arranged his
safe return to La Paz.

The Tinal chapter in the episode was acted out the follow-
ing summer, almost two years after Che Guevara'a death.
President Ren^ Barrientos was killed in a helicopter crash
while returning from a visit to the provinces. Six weeks later
Antonio Arguedas. the self-admitted agent of the CIA who
had yet to stand trial for treason and releasing Che Guevara's
diary, was apparently shot to death on a street in La Paz. A
month later llerberto Rojas, the guide for the Bolivian
rangers and their CIA advisors during the flnal trackdown of
Guevara, and one of the few people who possibly knew
where the body of the rebel leader was buried, was assassi-
nated in Santa Cruz.

The incriminating tapes Arguedas claimed to have given
to Mario Teran for safekeeping have never surfaced. Arguedas
himself, however, managed to survive the Che episode. In
1970, he mysteriously appeared in Cuba, having brought with
him the death mask and embalmed hands of the charismatic
revolutionary.

5.

PROPRIETARY ORGANIZATIONS

As far as depots of "untraceable arms." airlines
and other installations are concerned, one wonders
how the CIA could accomplish the tasks required
of It in Southeast Asia without such facilities.

— l YMAN KIRKPATKICK

Former CIA Executive Director
U S ,\ew and World Hrpori
October II. 1971

Late one windy spring afternoon in 1971 a small group of
men gathered unobtrusively in a plush suite at Washington's
Mayflower Hotel. The host for the meeting was Professor
Harry Howe Ransom of Vanderbilt University, author of
The Intelligence Establishment, a respected academic study
of the U.S. intelligence system. He was then doing research
for another book on the subject and had invited the others
for drinks and dinner, hoping to gather some new material
from his guests, who included ex-CIA officials, congres-
sional aides, and David Wise, co-author of The Invisible
Government and The Espionage Establishment, two of the
best books on the CIA and clandestine intelligence opera-
tions ever published. Someone brought up the CIA's use of
front companies.

"Oh, you mean the Delaware corporations," said Robert
Amory, Jr., a former Deputy Director of the CIA. "Well, if
the agency wants to do something in Angola, it needs the
Delaware corporations."

By "Delaware corporations" Amory was referring to what
are more commonly known in the agency as "proprietary
corporations" or, simply, "proprietaries." "These are ostensi-
bly private institution's and businesses which are in fact fi-
nanced and controlled by the CIA. From behind their
commercial and sometimes non-profit covers, the agency is
able to carry out a multitude of clandestine activities — usually
covert-action operations. Many of the firms are legally incor-

Proprietary Organizations 1 19

porated in Delaware because of that state's lenient regula-
tion of corporations, but the CIA has not hesitated tu use
other states when it found them more convenient.

The CIA's best-known proprietaries were Radio Free Eu-
rope and Radio Liberty, both established in the early 1950s.
The corporate structures of these two stations served as
something of a prototype for other agency proprietaries.
Each functioned under the cover provided by a board of
directors made up of prominent Americans, who \n the
case of RFE incorporated as the National Committee for
a Free Europe and in the case of KL as the American
Committee for Liberation. But CIA officers in the key
management positions at the stations made all the important
decisions regarding the programming and operations of the
stations.

In 1960 when the agency was preparing for the Bay of Pigs
invasion and other paramilitary attacks against Castro's Cuba,
it set up a radio station on desolate Swan Island in the
Caribbean to broadcast propaganda to the Cuban people.
Radio Swan, as it was called, was operated by a New York
company with a Miami address, the Gibraltar Steamship
Corporation. Again the CIA had found a group of distin-
guished people — as usual, corporate leaders with govern-
ment ties — to front for its clandestine activities. Gibraltar's
president was Thomas D. Cabot, who had once been presi-
dent of the United Fruit Company and who had held a high
position in the State Department during the Truman adminis-
tration. Another "stockholder" was Sumner Smith, of
Boston, who claimed (as did the Honduran government) and
his family owned Swan Island and who was president of the
Abington Textile and Machinery Works.

During the Bay of Pigs operation the following year. Ra-
dio Swan ceased its normal fare of propaganda broadcasts
and issued military commands to the invading forces and to
anti-Castro guerrillas inside Cuba. What little cover Radio
Swan might have had as a "private" corporation was thus
swept away. Ultimately, Radio Swan changed its name to
Radio Americas (although still broadcasting from Swan Island)
and the Gibraltar Steamship Corporation became the Van-
guard Service Corporation (but with the same Miami ad-
dress and telephone number as Gibraltar). The corporation,

120 The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

however, remained a CIA proprietary until its dissolution in
the late 1960s.

At least one other agency proprietary, the Double-Chek
Corporation, figured in the CIA's operations against Cuba.
Double-Chek was founded in Miami (which abounds with
agency proprietaries) in 1959. and, according to the records
of the Florida state government, "brokerage is the general
nature of the business engaged in." In truth, Double-Chek
was used by the agency to provide air support to Cuban exile
groups, and it was Double-Chek that recruited the four
American pilots who were killed during the Bay of Pigs
invasion. Afterward the CIA, through Double-Chek, paid
pensions to the dead fliers' widows and warned them to
maintain silence about their husbands' former activities.

When the CIA intervened in 1964, Cuban exile pilots —
some of whom were veterans of the Bay of Pigs — flew B-26
bombers against the rebels. These piloii were hired by a
company called Caramar (Caribbean Marine Aero Corpora-
lion), another CIA proprietary.

Often the weapons and other military equipment for an
operation such as that in the Congo are provided by a
"private" arms dealer. The largest such dealer in the United
States is the International Armament Corporation, or
Interarmco, which has its main office and some warehouses
on the waterfront in Alexandria, Virginia. Advertising that
it specializes in arms for law-enforcement agencies, the cor-
poration has outlets in Manchester in England, Monte Carlo,
Singapore, Pretoria, South Africa, and in several Latin Ameri-
can cities. Interarmco was founded in 1953 by Samuel
Cummings. a CIA officer during the Korean war. The cir-
cumstances surrounding Interarmco's earlier years are murky,
but CIA funds and support undoubtedly were available to it
at the beginning. Although Interarmco is now a truly private
corporation, it still maintains close ties with the agency. And
while the CIA will on occasion buy arms for specific
operations, it generally prefers to stockpile military materiel
in advance. For this reason, it maintains several storage
facilities in the United States and abroad for untraceable or
"sterile" weapons, which are always available for immediate
use. Interarmco and similar dealers are the CIA's second
most important source, after the Pentagon, of military materiel
for paramilitary activities.

Proprietary Organizations

121

The Air Proprietaries

Direct CIA ownership of Radio Free Europe, Radio Liberty,
and the Bay uf Pigs proprietaries, and direct involvement in
Interarmco are largely past history now. Nevertheless, the
agency is still very much involved in the proprietary business,
especially to support its paramilitary operations. CIA merce-
naries or CIA-supported foreign troops need air support to
fight their "secret" wars, and it was for just this purpose that
the agency built a huge network of clandestine airlines which
are far and away the largest and the most dangerous of all
the CIA proprietaries.

Incredible as it may seem, the CIA is currently the owner
of one of the biggest — if not the biggest — fleets of "com-
mercial" airplanes in the world Agency proprietaries in-
diide Air America, Air A.sia, Civil Air Transport, Inter-
mountain Aviation, Southern Air Transport, (DELETED)
and several other air charter companies around the world.

Civil Air Transport (CAT), the original link in the CIA
air empire, was started in China in 1946, one year before the
agency itself was established by Congress. CAT was an
offshoot of General Claire Chennault's Flying Tigers, and
during its early days it flew missions of every kind in support
of Chiang Kai-shek's unsuccessful effort to retain control of
the Chinese mainland. When Chiang was finally driven out
of China in 1949, CAT went with him to Taiwan and contin-
ued its clandestine air operations. In 1950 CAT was reorgan-
ized as a Delaware corporation under a CIA proprietary
holding company called the Pacific Corporation.

In a top-secret memorandum to General Maxwell Taylor
on "unconventional-warfare resources in Southeast Asia" in
1961, published in The Pentagon Papers, Brigadier General
Edward Lansdale described CAT's functions as follows:

CAT is a commerical air line engaged in scheduled and
nonscheduled air operations throughout the Far East,
with headquarters and large maintenance facilities in
Taiwan. CAT, a CIA proprietary, provides air logistical
support under commercial cover to most CIA and other
U.S. Government agencies' requirements. CAT sup-
ports covert and clandestine air operations by providing
trained and experienced personnel, procurement of sup-
plies and equipment through overt commercial channels.

122

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

and the m<iintenance of a fairly large inventory of trans-
port and other type aircraft under both Chinat [Chinese
Nationalist) and U.S. registry.

CAT has demonstrated its capabilities on numerous
occasions to meet all types of contmgency or long-term
covert air requirements in support of U.3. objectives.
During the past ten years, it has had some notable
achievements, including support of the Chinese Nation-
alist withdrawal from the mainland, air drop support to
the French at Dien Bien Phu, complete logistical and
tactical air support for the Indonesian operation, air lifts
of refugees from North Vietnam, more than 200 over-
flights of Mainland China and Tibet, and extensive air
support in Laos during the current crisis. . . .

The air drops at Dien Bien Phu occurred in 19S4 when the
U.S. government decided not to come directly to the assis-
tance of the beleaguered French force but did approve co-
vert military support. 19S4 w<-is also the year of the airlift of
refugees from North Vietnam to the South. These were
non-secret missions, but the CIA could not resist loading
the otherwise empty planes that flew to North Vietnam
with a cargo of secret agents and military equipment to be
used in a clandestine network then being organized in North
Vietnam. Like other guerrilla operations against communist
countries, whether in Europe or Asia, this CIA venture was
a failure.

By "the Indoaeiian operation," I^nsdale waa referring to
the covert air and other military support the CIA provided
to the rebels of the Sukarno govenunenf in 1958.*

The "more than 200 overflights of Mainland China and
Tibet" that Lansdale mentioned occurred mainly during the
1950s (but continued well into the 1960s), when the CIA
supported, on its own and in cooperation with the Chiang
Kai-shek government, guerrilla operations against China.
CAT was the air-supply arm for these operations, and it was

'Allen Pope, the pilot who was shot down and captured during this operation
hy the Indonesian government, was a CAT pilot. Six months after his release
in 1962 he went to work for another CIA proprietary. Southern Air Transport -
The attorney for Southern at that lime was a man named Alex E. Carlson,
who had only a year before been the lawyer for Double-Chelt Corporation
when that CIA proprietary had furnished the pilots for the Bay of Pigs.

Proprietary Organizations 123

in a CAT plane that Richard Fecteau and John Downey
were shot down by the communist Chinese in 19S4.

By the end of the 1950s, CAT had split into three separate
airlines, all controlled by a CIA proprietary' holding company,
the Pacific Corporation. One firm, Air America, took over
most of CAT'S Southeast Asia business; another. Air Asia,
operated a giant maintenance facility on Taiwan. The por-
tion still called CAT continued to fly open and covert char-
ter missions out of Taiwan and to operate Nationalist China's
scheduled domestic and international airline. CAT was best
known for the extravagant service on its "Mandarin Jet,"
which linked Taipei to neighboring Asian capitals.

In 1964, about the time of the mysterious crash of a CAT
plane,* the CIA decided that running Taiwan's air passenger
service contributed little to the mg^ncy's covert mission in
Asia, and that the non-charter portion of CAT should be
turned over to the Chinese Nationalists. But the Nationalists'
own China Air Lines had neither the equipment nor the
experience at that time to take over CAT's routes, and the
Nationalist government was not prepared to allow the CIA
to abandon Taiwan's principal air links with the outside
world. The CIA could not simply discontinue service, be-
cause such action would have offended the Chiang govern-
ment and made uncertain the continued presence of agency's
other proprietaries and intelligence facilities on Taiwan.

The negotiations over CAT's passenger routes dragged on
through the next four years. The CIA was so eager to reach
a settlement that it sent a special emissary to Taiwan on
temporary duty, but his short-term negotiating assignment
eventually turned into a permanent position. Finally, in 1968
another CAT passenger plane — this time a Boeing 727 —

'CAT'S former public-relations director, Arnold Dibble, wrote in the Saturday
Review of May 1 1 . "A highly suspicious crash of a C-46 claimed the lives
of fifty-seven persons, including that of perhaps the richest man in Asia, Dalo
Loke Wan Tho — the Malaysian movie magnate — and several of his starlets
from his Cathay studios. The full story of this crash has yet to be unraveled;
what is known has not been told because it has been kept under official and
perhaps officious wraps. There has never been, for instance, an official airing
of the pan played by two apparently demented military men aboard who had
stolen two radar identification manuals (about the size of a mail-order catalog)
in the Pescadores Islands, hollowed ttiem out with a razor blade so each
would hold a .45 caliber pistol. The manuals and one pistol were found, but
fire and perhaps inadequate investigation marred the evidence. It was never
definitely determined if the weapons had been fired."

124

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

crashed near the Taipei airport . Tliis second accident caused
twenty-one deaths and provided that rarest of occurrences
on Taiwan, a spontaneous public demonstration — against
U.S. involvement in the airline. Bowing to public pressure,
the Nationalist government then accepted a settlement with
the agency: China Air Lines took over CAT'S international
flights: CAT. despite the agency's reluctance, continued to
tly domestic routes on Taiwan; and the CIA sweetened the
p>ot with a large cash payment to the Nationalists.

Air America, a spin-off of CAT, was set up in the late
195(>s to accommodate the agency's rapidly growing number
of operations in Southeast Asia. As U.S. involvement deep-
ened in that part of the world, other government agencies —
the State Department, the Agency for International Develop-
ment (AID), and the United States Information Agency
(USIA) — also turned to Air America to transport their peo-
ple and supplies. By 1971, AID alone had paid Air America
more than SS.'? million for charter services. In fact. Air Amer-
ica w.is able to generate so much business in Southeast Asia
that eventually other American airlines took note of the
profits to be made.

One private company. Continental Airlines, made a success-
hil move In (he ■iiid-1960s to lake some of the market away
from Air America. Pierre Salinger, who became an ofTicer
of Continentml after his years as President Kennedy's press
secretary, led Continental's fight to gain its share of the
lucrative Southeast Asian business. The Continental position
was (hat i( was a ques(ionable, if no( illegal, prac(ice for a
governmen(-owned basiness (even a CIA proprie(ary under
cover) (o coinpe(e wi(h (ruly priva(e companies in seeking
govemmen( con(rac(s. The CIA ofTicers who had (o deal
wi(h Con(inen(al were very uncomfortable. They knew (ha(
Salinger had learned during his Whi(e House days of (he
agency's activities in Southeast Asia and, specirically, of Air
America's tie to the CIA. They feared (ha( implici( in
Con(lnen(ars approach for a share of (he Sou(heas( Asian
marke( was (he (hrea( (ha( if (he agency refused (o coopera(e,
Con(inen(al would make i(s case publicly — using informadon
supplied by Salinger. Ra(her (han face (he possibility of
Dnwan(ed publici(y, (he CIA permitted Continental to move
into Laos, where since the late 1960s it has down charter
flights worth millions of dollars annually. And Continental's
best customer is the CIA itself.

Proprietary Organizations

125

But even with Continental flying in Laos, the agency was
able to keep most of the flights for its own Air America.
This CIA airline has done everything from parachuting Meo
tribesmen behind North Vietnamese lines in Laos to drop-
ping rice to refugees in the Vietnamese highlands. Air Amer-
ica has trained pilots for the Thai national police, transported
pKslitical prisoners for the South Vietnamese government,
carried paymasters and payrolls for CIA mercenaries, and,
even before the Tonkin Gulf Resolution, furnished pilots for
secret bombing raids on North Vietnamese supply lines in
Laos. It has also been accused of participating in Southeast
Asia's heroin trade. Air America's operations regularly cross
national boundaries in Southeast Asia, and its flights are
almost never inspected by customs authorities. It has its own
separate passenger and freight terminals at airports in South
Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand. At Udorn, in Thailand, Air
America maintains a large base which is hidden within an
even larger U.S. Air Force facility (which is ostensibly under
Thai government control). The Udorn base is used to sup-
port virtually all of the "secret" war in Laos, and it also
houses a "secret" maintenance facility for the planes of the
Thai, Cambodian, and Laotian air forces.

Before the cease-fire in Vietnam, Air America was flying
125 planes of its own, with roughly 40 more on lease, and it
had about 5,000 employees, roughly 10 percent of whom
were pilots. It was one of America's largest airlines, ranking
I just behind National in total number of planes. Now that the
[ U.S. military forces have withdrawn from the Vietnamese
theater, the role of maintaining a signiflcani American influ-
ence has reverted largely to the CIA — and Air America,
under the circumstances, is finding its services even more in
demand than previously. Even the International Supervisory
and Control Commission, despite the membership of commu-
nist Poland and Hungary, has signed a contract with the CIA
proprietary to support its supervision of the Vietnam cease-
fire. In 1973, Air America had contracts with the Defense
Department worth 541.4 million.

A wholly owned subsidiary of Air America, Air Asia,
operates on Taiwan the largest air repair and maintenance
facility in the Pacific region. Established in 1955, Air Asia
employs about 8,000 people. It not only services the CIA's
own planes, it also repairs private and military aircraft. The
U.S. Air Force makes heavy use of Air Asia and conse-

126

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

quently hus not had to build a major maintenance facility of
its own in East Asia, as would have been necessary if the
CIA proprietary' had not been available. Like Air America,
Air Asia is a self-sustaining, profit-making enterprise.

Until the CIA decided to sell it off in mid- 1973, Southern
Air Transport, another agency proprietary, operated out of
offices in Miami and Taiwan. Unlike CAT, Air America,
and Air Asia, it was not officially connected with the Pacific
Corporation holding company, but Pacific did guarantee $6.6
million loaned to it by private banks, and Air America
loaned it an additional S6.7 million funneled through yet
another CIA proprietary called Actus Technology. Southern's
role in the Far East was largely limited to flying profitable
routes for the Defense Department. Other U.S. government
agencies have also chartered Southern on occasion. In the
first half of 1972 it received a S2 million AID contract to fly
relief supplies to the new state of Bangladesh.

But within tlie CIA, Southern Air Transport was primarily
important as the agency's air arm for potential Latin Ameri-
can interventions. This was the justiHcation whan the CIA
took control of it in 1960, and it prov ided the agency with a
readily available "air force" to support counterinsurgency
efforts or to help bring down an unfriendly government.
While Southern awaited its call to be the Air America of
future Latin American guerrilla wars, it "lived its cover" and
cut down CIA's costs by hiring out its planes on charier.

A particularly mysterious air proprietary is known within
the agency as Intermountaln Aviation. Its public dealings
are through firms called Aero Associates and Hamilton
Aircraft. Intermountaln specializes in charier flights, air-
plane repair, reconditioning of old military planes, and the
shipment of these planes overseas. It is located on a large
private airfield near Tucson, Arizona, which looks much
like an airforce base: housing is provided for senior personnel;
there is an impressive officers' club, a swimming pool, and
other sports facilities — all purchased and maintained at the
CIA's expense. (One senior agency official often speculated
that the two most pleasant assignments he could think of to
finish his career in luxury were to be chief of station in
Johannesburg, South Africa, and director of Intermountaln
Aviation.)

Intermountaln was founded by die agency in the 1950s
primarily for the maintenance of CIA aircraft, but it soon

Proprietary Organizations

127

became a parking and storage facility for planes from other
ageiKy proprietaries. Additionally , the agency used it for
the training of both American and foreign mercenaries. V^lien
the CIA brought Tibetan tribesmen to the United Stales in
the late 19SOs to prepare them for Kucrrilla forays into
China, the agency's Intermountain Aviation assisted in the
training program.

Then, in the early 196()s CIA air operations grew by leaps
and bounds with the expansion of the wars in Southeast Asia
and the constant Fighting in the Congo.

intermountain rapidly expanded its operations to the point
where its cover as a commercial air charter and repair
company became difficult to maintain. If nothing else, its
parachute towers looked suspicious to the casual viewer.
The problem of cover was partially solved, however, when
Intermountain landed a Department of the Interior contract
to train smoke jumpers for forest fire control. But a reporter
visiting Tucson in 1966 still wrote. "Anyone driving by could
see more than a hundred B-26s with their armor plate, bomb
bays, and gun ports." Not long after this disclosure appeared
in the press, CIA funds were made available to Intermountain
to build hangars for the parked aircraft. Prying reporters and
the curious public soon saw less.

In 1965, Intermountain Aviation served as a conduit in the
sale of B-26 bombers to Portugal for use in that country's
colonial wars in Africa. The sale directly violated the official
United States policy against arms exports to Portugal for use
in Angola, Mozambique, or Portuguese Guinea. The U.S.
government, at its highest level, had decided to sell twenty
B-26s to Portugal, and the CIA proprietary was following
official orders. Theoretically, the embargo on weapons ex-
ports for use in Portugal's colonies remained intact — but not
in fact. The U.S. government was, thus, doing covertly what
it had forbidden itself to do openly.

Through the spring and summer of 1965, seven B-26s were
flown from Arizona to Lisbon by an English pilot hired by
an ostensibly private firm called Aero Associates. By Sep-
tember the operation's cover had worn so thin that Soviet
and Hungarian representatives at the United Nations specif-
ically attacked the transaction. The American U.N. delega-
tion conceded that seven B-26s had been delivered to Portugal,
but Ambassador Arthur Goldberg stated that "the only in-
volvement of officials of the United Stales has been in prose-

128

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

cuting a malefactor against the laws of the country." This
was a simple mistruth. Ambassador Goldberg, however, may
have not known what the facts were. Adiai Stevenson before
him had not been fully briefed on the Bay of Pigs invasion
and wound up unknowingly making false statements at the
U.N.

The same techniques were used to distort the prosecution
of the "malefactor." Ramsey Clark, at the time Deputy
Attorney General, got in contact with Richard Helms, when
the latter was the CIA's Deputy Director, and the agency's
General Counsel, Lawrence Houston, to discuss the Portu-
guese airplane matter. Agency officials assured Clark that
the CIA had not been involved. Recalling the case, Clark
says, "We couldn't have gone to trial if they [the CIA] had
been involved. I don't see how you can just prosecute the
little guys acting in the employ of a government agency."

Still, the United States had been exposed as violating its
own official policy, and, for political reasons, those knowl-
edgeable about the facts refused to intervene to aid "the
little guys." Thus, one agency of the government, the Justice
Department, unwittingly found itself in the curious position
of prosecuting persons who had been working under the
direct orders of another government agency, the CIA. Five
indictments were finally secured, but one of the accused fled
the country, and charges against two of the others were
dropped. But in the fall of 1966 the English pilot, John
Richard Hawke, and Henri Marie Franqois de Marin de
Montmarin, a Frenchman who had been a middleman in the
deal, were brought to trial in a Buffalo, New York, federal
court.

Hawke admitted in court, "Yes, I flew B-26 bombers to
Portugal for use in their African colonies, and the operation
was arranged through the State Department and the CIA."
However, CIA General Counsel Houston flatly denied un-
der oath that the agency had been involved in the transaction.
Houston did reveal that the agency "knew about" the bomber
shipment on May 25, 1965, five days before it began, and that
this information had been passed on to the State Depart-
ment and eleven other government agencies. He also said
that on July 7 the CIA was "informed" that four of the B-26s
had actually been delivered to Portugal; again the CIA gave
notice to State and other agencies. He did not explain why,
if the U.S. government had so much intelligence on the

Proprietary Organizations

129

flights, nothing was done to stop them, although their flight
plans had been filed with the Federal Aviation Administra-
tion and Hawke, on one mission, even inadvertently buzzed
the White House.

The jury found Hawke and Montmarin innocent. Mem-
bers of the panel later let it be known that they had not been
convinced that the two accused had deliberately violated the
law.

. . . Prior to the appointment of John McCone as the
Agency's Director in 1962, . . . main aircraft was . . . McCone
had been used to much more luxurious transport in his previ-
ous career as a corporation president, and the first time he
saw . . ., he delivered an angry tirade about the need for
finding a plane more suitable to his position. The Agency's
Support Directorate promptly bought . . . outfitted in plush
executive style. McCone made extensive use of . . . plane, but
he also allowed other senior CIA officers to use it for official
business. *

Former Director Helms, however, refused to fly (DE-
LETED) because he believed that its commercial cover was
too transparent. He preferred instead to travel on legitimate
commercial airlines. Less reluctant was Vice President Hu-
bert Humphrey, who often used (DELETED) Gulfstream
during his 1968 Presidential campaign.

CIA's air empire . . . There have been at least two CIA
proprietaries . . . One, . . When not serving the Agency,
this proprietary "lived its cover" . . . The other . . . propri-
etary was . . . awaiting orders from the Agency.

Perhaps the CIA's most out-of-the-way proprietary was
located in Katmandu, Nepal. It was established to provide
air support for agency-financed and -directed tribesmen who
were operating in Chinese-controiled Tibet. CAT originally
flew these missions, as indicated by General Lansdale's refer-
ence to CAT'S "more then 200 overflights of Mainland China
and Tibet." But flying planes from Taiwan to the CIA's

* McCone s desire for com fori and symbob of power came oui several limes in
his firsi few monlhs as CIA Direclor. He insisted that ihe Agency's rather
austere executive suite be completely rebuilt. His offices and those of his Deputy
Director were enlarged, paneled in wood, and impressively furnished. He
demanded — a.nd received — a limousine of the type usually reserved for Cabinet-
level officers. And when he learned that the Agency had no executive dining
room, he ordered that one be built. A large part of the CIA 's executive suite
was then convened into a private dining room and decorated in the traditional
fashion of a men's club.

130

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

operational base in northeastern India proved too cumber-
some; thus the Nepalese proprietary was set up. As the
Tibetan operations were cut back and eventually halted dur-
ing the 1960s, this airline was reduced in size to a few
planes, helicopters, and a supply of spare parts. Still, up to
the late 1960s, it flew charters for the Nepalese government
and private organizations in the area.

The CIA's Planning, Programming, and Budgeting Staff
back in Langley believed that the airline's usefulness as an
agency asset had passed, and the decision was made to sell it
off. But, for the CIA to sell a proprietary is a very difficult
process. The agency feels that it must maintain the secrecy
of its covert involvement, no matter how moot or insignifi-
cant the secrecy, and it does not want to be identified in any
way, either before or after the actual transaction. Moreover,
there is a real fear within the Clandestine Services that a
profit will be made, and then by law, the CIA would be
obliged to return the gain to the U.S. Treasury. The clandes-
tine operatives do not want to be troubled by the bureau-
cratic red tape this would entail. It simply goes against the
grain of the clandestine mentality to have to explain and
justify such a transaction to anyone — let alone to the book-
keepers at the Treasury.

Unloading Southern Air Transport in 1973 proved to be
something of a fiasco for the agency. Following past practice,
the CIA tried to sell it quietly to a former employee —
presumably at an attractive price — but the effort failed when
three legitimate airlines protested to the Civil Aeronautics
Board. They complained that Southern had been built up
with government money, that it had consequently received
lucrative charter routes, and that it represented unfair
competition. When word of this prospective sale got into the
newspapers, the CIA backtracked and voluntarily dropped
Southern's CAB certification — greatly reducing the airline's
value but guaranteeing that the agency could sell it off in
complete secrecy.

And with the Nepalese airline, CIA found a buyer who had
previously worked for other agency air proprietaries. Since
he was a former "company man," secrecy was preserved. He
was allowed to purchase the airlines for a small down payment.
Following highly unorthodox business procedure, the airline
itself served as collateral for the balance due. A CIA auditor
at headquarters privately described the sale as a "giveaway,"

Proprietary Organizations 131

but this was the way the Clandestine Services wanted the
afTair handled. The new owner remained in Miami although
all his airlines' operations were in Nepal. Within a compara-
tively short period of time, he liquidated all the airline's
assets. He wound up with a considerable profit, but the
agency made back only a fraction of its original costs. The
Clandestine Ser>'ices was pleased with the sale, in any case,
because it had been able to di^'est itself of a useless asset in a
way both to guarantee maximum security and to assure the
future loyally and availability of the buyer.

A somewhat similar sale of a proprietary occurred . . .
when CIA decided to get rid of a . . . had become increasingly
less valuable to the Agency, and its annual cost . . . could no
longer be justified. But the key employees . . . were eager to
preserve their jobs and resisted the sale. It was feared at
headquarters that one or more of these people might make
public CIA 's relationship . . . if an amicable settlement were
not worked out. The Agency took the problem to . . . would
buy . . . CIA agreed, and the . . . was sold . . . in what was
described in some circles of the Agency as a "sweetheart
deal."

While the ethics of transactions of this sort are questionable,
conflict of interest laws presumably do not apply to the CIA;
the Central Intelligence Agency Act of 1949 conveniently
states that "The sums made available to the Agency may be
expended without regard to the provisions of law and regula-
tions relating to the expenditure of Government funds." In
any case, the use of proprietary companies opens up to the
participants an opportunity to make substantial profits while
"living their cover."

The fact remains that CIA proprietaries are worth hun-
dreds of millions of dollars, and no one outside the agency is
able to audit their books. And, as will be seen later in this
chapter, CIA headquarters sometimes has only the vaguest
notion about what certain proprietaries are doing or what
their assets are. Undoubtedly, there are wide opportunities
for abuse, and many of the people involved in fields such as
the arms trade, paramilitary soldiering, and covert air opera-
tions are not known for high ethical standards. While only a
few agency career employees would take money for personal
gain, there is little to prevent officers of the proprietaries
from doing so, if they are so inclined.

132

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

As can be seen, the CIA's proprietary corporations serve
largely in support of special, or paramilitary, operations.
Some, of course, were established for propaganda and
disinformation purposes and, like most other covert assets,
proprietaries can also be used on occasion to further the
espionage and counterespionage efforts of the Clandestine
Services. In the main, however, there has been a definite
trend in the agency for more than a decade to develop the
air proprietaries as the tactical arm for the CIA's secret
military interventions in the Third World. The fleets of these
CIA airlines have been continually expanded and modern-
ized, as have been their base facilities. In the opinion of
most CIA professionals, the agency's capabilities to con-
duct special operations would be virtually nonexistent with-
out the logistical and other support provided by the air
proprietaries.

The performance or the Pacific Corporation and its sub-
sidiaries, Air America and Air Asia, in assisting the CIA's
many special ops adventures over the years in the Far East
and Southeast Asia has deeply impressed the agency's
leadership. The explnit.s of the contract air oflicers in that
$trire>riddcn corner of the world have become almost legend-
ary within the CIA. Furthermore, the advantages of having
a self-sustaining, self-run complex which requires no CIA
funds and little agency manpower are indeed much appreci-
ated by the Clandestine Services.

Without the air proprietaries, there could have been no
secret raids into Communist China. There could have been
no Tibetan or Indonesian or Burmese operations. And, most
important of all, there could have been no "secret" war in
Laos. Even many of the CIA's covert activities in Vietnam
could not have been planned, much less implemented, with-
out the assurance that CIA airlines were available to support
such operations. Thus, it is small wonder that the agency,
when it moved to intervene in the Congo (and anticipating
numerous other insurgencies on the continent), hastily tried
to develop the same kind of air support there that tradition-
ally was available to special operations in Asia. And one can
easily understand why the planners of the Bay of Pigs opera-
tion now regret not having made similar arrangements for
their own air needs instead of relying on the U.S. armed
forces.

Proprietary Organizations 133

The Fabulous George Doole

Although the boards of directors of the air proprietaries are
studded with the names of eminently respectable business
leaders and financiers, several of the companies' operations
were actually long in the hands of one rather singular man,
George Doole, Jr. Until his retirement in 1971, Doole's
official titles were president of the Pacific Corporation and
chief executive officer of Air America and Air Asia; it was
under his leadership that the CIA air proprietanes blossomed.

Doole was known to his colleagues in the agency as a
superb businessman. He had a talent for expanding his air-
lines and for making them, functionally if not formally, into
profit-making concerns. In fact, his proprietaries proved some-
thing of an embarrassment to the agency because of their
profitability. While revenues never quite covered all the
costs to the CIA of the original capital investment, the huge
contracts with U.S. government agencies resulting from the
war in Indochina made the Pacific Corporation's holdings
(CAT, Air America, and Air Asia) largely self-sufficient
during the 1960s. Consequently, the CIA was largely spared
having to pay in any new money for specific projects.

Some of the agency's top officials, such as the former
Executive Director-Comptroller and the chief of Planning,
Programming, and Budgeting, felt uncomfortable with the
booming business Doole managed, but they did nothing to
change it. The Executive Director once privately explained
the inaction: "There are things here better left undisturbed.
The point is that George Doole and CAT provide the agency
with a great number of services, and the agency doesn't have
to pay for them." Among the other services he provided was
his ability as a straight-faced liar: asked by the New York
Times in 1970 whether his airlines had any connection with
the CIA, Doole said: "If 'someone out there' is behind all
this, we don't know about it." At that time Doole had been
working for the CIA for seventeen years, and for most af
those years had held a CIA "supergrade" position.

Doole's empire was formally placed under the CIA's Direc-
torate of Support on the agency's organization chart, al-
though many of its operations were supervised by the
Clandestine Services. But so little was known inside CIA
headquarters about the air proprietaries which employed
almost as many people as the agency itself (18,000) that in

134

The CIA and the Cult o f Intelligence

1965 a CIA offlcer with extensive Clandestine Services experi-
ence was assigned to make a study of their operations for the
agency's top officials.

This officer spent the better part of a year trying to assem-
ble the relevant data, and he became increasingly frustrated
as he proceeded, lie found that the various proprietaries
were constantly trading, leasing, and selling aircraft to each
other:' that the tail numbers of many of the planes were
regularly changed; and that the mixture of profit-making and
covert flight made accounting almost impossible. He finally
put up a huge map of the world in a secure agency confer-
ence room and used flags and pins to try to designate what
proprietaries were operating with what equipment in what
countries. This officer later compared his experience to
trying to assemble a military order of battle, and his estimate
was that his map was at best 90 percent accurate at any given
time. Finally, Helms, then Deputy Director, was invited in
to see the map and be briefed on the complexity of the
airlines. A witness described Helms as being "aghast."

That same year the Executive Committee for Air (Ex Comm
Air) was formed in order to keep abreast of the various air
proprietaries. Lawrence Houston, the agency's General
Counsel, was appointed chairman, and representatives were
appointed from the Clandestine Services, the Support
Directorate, and the agency's executive suite. But the pro-
ceedings were considered so secret that Ex Comm Air's
executive secretary was told not to keep minutes or even notes.

In 1968, Ex Comm Air met to deal with a request from
George Doole for several million dollars to "modernize"
Southern Air Transport. Doole's justification for the money
was that every major airline in the world was using jets, and
that Southern needed to follow suit if it were to continue to
"live its cover." Additionally, Doole said that Southern should
have equipment as effective as possible in the event the
agency had to call on it for future contingencies in Latin
America.

Previous to Doole's request, the agency's Board of Na-
tional Estimates had prepared a long-range assessment of
events in Latin America. This estimate had been approved

*Thc CAT jcl Ihal crashed on Taiwan In lUfi!) was on lease from Southern Air
Transport.

Proprietary Organizations 135

by the Director and sent to the President as the official
analysis of the intelligence community. The conclusions were
generally that political, economic, and social conditions in
Latin America had so deteriorated that a long period of
instability was at hand; that existing American policy was
feeding this instability; and that there was little the United
State« could do, outside of providing straight economic and
humanitarian assistance, to improve the situation. The esti-
mate strongly implied that continued open U.S. intervention
in the internal affairs of Latin American nations would only
make matters worse and further damage the American im-
age in that region.*

At the meeting on Southern Air Transport's modernization
request, Doole was asked if he thought expanding Southern's
capabilities for future interventions in Latin America con-
formed with the conclusions of the estimate. Doole remained
silent, but a Clandestine Services officer working in para-
military affairs replied that the estimate might well have
been a correct appraisal of the Latin American situation and
that the White House might accept it as fact, but that non-
intervention would not necessarily become official American
policy. The Clandestine Services man pointed out that over
the years there had been other developments in Latin
America — in countries such as Guatemala and the Domini-
can Republic — where the agency had been called on by the
White House to take action against existing political trends;
that the CIA's Director had a responsibility to prepare esti-
mates for the White House as accurately as possible; but
that the Director (and the Clandestine Services and Doole)
also had a responsibility to be ready for the worst possible
contingencies.

In working to strengthen Southern Air Transport and his
other proprietaries, Doole and the Clandestine Services were
following one of the basic maxims of covert action: Build
assets now for future contingencies. It proved to be persua-
sive strategy, as the Director personally approved Doole's

'This estimate came much closer to recommending future American policy
than almost any other paper previously prepared by the Board of National
Estimates. The board member in charge of its preparation was a former*
division chief and chief of station in the Clandestine Services. He and his
colleagues apparently hoped that the estimate would have a direct bearing on
future agency covert operations in Latin America.

136

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

request and Southern received its several million dollars for
jets.*

The meeting ended inconclusively. Afterward the CIA
officer who had been questioning Doole and the Clandestine
Services man was told that he had picked the wrong time to
make a stand.

So if the U.S. government decides to intervene covertly in
the internal affairs of a Latin American country — or elsewhere,
for that matter — Doole's planes will be available to support
the operation. These CIA airlines stand ready to drop their
legitimate charter business quietly and assume the role they
were established for: the transport of arms and mercenaries
for the agency's "special operations." The guns will come
from the CIA's own stockpiles and from the warehouses of
Interarmco and other international arms dealers. The merce-
naries will be furnished by the agency's Special Operations
Division, and, like the air proprietaries, their connection
with the agency will be "plausibly deniable" to the Ameri-
can public and the rest of the world.

Doole and his colleagues in the Clandestine Services have
worked hard over the years to build up the airlines and the-
other assets for paramilitary action. Their successors will
fight hard to retain this capability — both because they want
to preserve their own secret empire and because they believe
in the rightness of CIA clandestine intervention in other
countries' internal affairs. They know all too well that if the
CIA never intervened, there would be little justification for
their existence.

'When the CIA tried to sell off Southern in 1973. only three propeller-driven
planes were listed in its inventory. It is not known what happened to the jets,
but it is a safe bel that somehow they have been transferred to a better-hidden
CIA proprietary.

6.

PROPAGANDA AND DISINFORMATION

In psychological warfare . . . the inlelligence agen-
cies of the democratic countries suffer from the
grave disadvantage that in attempting to damage
the adversary they must also deceive their own
public.

—VICTOR ZORZA
Wtahingion Post
November 15, 1965

By the mid-1960s most of the professionals in the CIA's
Clandestine Services thought that the day of the balloon as
an effective delivery vehicle in propaganda operations had
long since passed. Years before, in the early rough-and-
tumble era of the Cold War, agency operators in West
Germany had often used balloons to carry anti-communist
literature into the denied areas behind the Iron Curtain.
These operations, although lacking in plausible deniability,
normally a prerequisite in covert propaganda efforts, had
scored high — judging from the numerous angry protests issued
by the Soviet Union and its East European satellites.

Since then the propaganda game had evolved into a subtle
contest of wits, and the agency's Covert Action Staff had
developed far more sophisticated methods for spreading ideo-
logical messages. Thus, there was a sense of "deja vu"
among the covert-action staffers when ofncers of the Far East
Division suggested in 1967 that a new balloon operation be
undertaken. The target this time was to be mainland China.

The People's Republic was at that time in the midst of the
cultural revolution. Youthful Red Guards were rampaging
throughout the country, shattering customs and laws alike;
confusion, near chaos, engulfed the nation. But the CIA's
China watchers in Hong Kong and elsewhere on the periph-
ery of the mainland had detected that a reaction was setting
in, especially in southern China around Canton and Foochow
in the provinces of Kwangtung and Fukien. They believed
that a kind of backlash to the excesses of the Red Guards

138

The CIA and ihe Cull of Intelligence

was building, for increasingly groups within the military and
among the workers were beginning to resist the Red Guards
and to call for a return to traditional law and order.

To the agency's operators, these were conditions worth
exploiting. No one really believed that communism could be
eliminated from the mainland, but the short-term political
objectives which might be achieved through covert propa-
ganda were too tempting to pass up. China was an avowed
enemy of the United States, and the CIA felt that each bit of
additional domestic turmoil that could be stirred up made
the world's most populous country — already experimenting
with long-range ballistic missiles — that much less of a threat
to American national security. Furthermore, if Peking could
be kept preoccupied with internal problems, then the likeli-
hood of Chinese military intervention in the Vietnamese
war, in a manner similar to that so effectively employed
years earlier in Korea, could be diminished. Perhaps, too,
China could be forced to reduce its material support to
North Vietnam and to cut back on its export of revolution to
other areas of the developing world.

The operation was accordingly approved by the 303 Com-
mittee (now the 40 Committee) and the agency took its
balloons out of storage, shipping them to a secret base on
Taiwan. There they were loaded with a variety of carefully
prepared propaganda materials— leaflets, pamphlets, news-
papers — and, when the winds were right, launched to float
over the mainland provinces due west of the island. The
literature dropped by the balloons had been designed by the
agency's propagandists to appear as similar as possible in
substance and style to the few publications then being fur-
tively distributed on a small scale by conservative groups
inside China. Names of no genuine anti-revolutionary organi-
zations were used; fictitious associations, some identified
with the army, others with agricultural communes or urban
industrial unions, were invented.

The main thrust of all the propaganda was essentially the
same, criticizing the activities (both real and imaginary) of
the Red Guards and, by implication, those leaders who in-
spired or permitted such excesses. It was hoped that the
propaganda and its attendant disinfon nation would create
Turther reactions to the cultural revolution, on one hand
adding to the growing domestic confusion and on the other
disrupting the internal balance of power among the leader-

Propaganda and Disinformation

139

ship in Peking, The CIA calculated that when the Chinese
realized they were being propagandized, the L.S. govern-
ment could conlidently disclaim any responsibility. The as-
sumed culprit would most likely be Chiang Kai-shek's Taiwan
regime, the agency's witting and cooperative host for the
operation.

Almost immediately after it began, the balloon project was
a success. The CIA's China watchers soon saw evidence of
increased resistance to the Red Guards in the southern
provinces. Peking, apparently believing the reaction to the
cultural revolution to be greater than it actually was, dis-
played strong concern over developments in the south. And
within weeks, refugees and travelers from the mainland
began arriving in Hong Kong with copies of the leaflets
and pamphlets that the agency's propagandists had manu-
factured—a clear indication of the credence being given the
false literature by the Chinese masses. It was not long,
therefore, before the Clandestine Services were searching
for other ways to expand their propaganda effort against the
new target.

A decision was therefore made to install on Taiwan a pair
of clandestine radio transmitters which would broadcast
propaganda— and disinformation— of the same nature as
that disseminated by the balloon drops, if the Chinese peo-
ple accepted the radio broadcasts as genuine, the CIA
reasoned, then they might be convinced that the counter-
movement to the cultural revolution was gaining strength
and perhaps think that the time had come to resist the Red
Guards and their supporters still more openly.

Again the Coven Action Staff relied on imitation. . . . The
Agency's radios were modeled after a handful of authentic
stations. . . . One of the CIA's radios, therefore, . . . the
other . . .

Selling up the radios involved a difficult task for the Agency's
technical experts. . . .

The technicians proved capable of meeting the challenge,
but it was obvious to all associated with the operation that the
Chinese government, which had by now discovered that much
of the counter-revolutionary literature circulating in the southern
provinces was the product of foreign balloon drops, would
after a while determine that the radio broadcasts, . . . Never-
theless, the operators pressed ahead with the project.

Against a closed-society target, simply providing infcirina -

140

The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

tion and news that the gnvetnmf.n L wishes to keep from its
Dc onle cap have a si j; njfi can( q ffcci. If, in addition, some
clever disinforrmtion can oe inserted, then so much the
better. The listeners, realizing that much of what they are
hearing is true, tend to believe that all they are told is accurate.

One source of news used by agency propagandists was the
CIA's own Foreign Broadcast Information Service (FBIS),
which daily monitors open radio broadcasting around the
world from more than a dozen listening posts located in such
varied places as Hong Kong, Panama, Nigeria, Cyprus, even
San Francisco. The product of the FBIS was also utilized to
determine whether the broadcasts of the clandestine trans-
mitters were reaching their target in China and creating the
anticipated effect.

There was a third (and deleterioHs) way, however, in which
the monitoring service played a role in the operation, and
the Clandestine Services were slow to correct it. Unlike most
of the intelligence collected by the agency, the programs
monitored by the FBIS are widely disseminated within the
U.S. government and to certain subscribers among the press
corps and the academic community. These daily rep>orts,
verbatim transcripts translated into English, are packaged and
color-coded according to major geographical area — Far East
(yellow). Middle East/Africa (blue), Latin America (pink),
andso on. But even though the FBIS editors are members of
the CIA's Intelligence Directorate, the operators in the Clan-
destine Services are reluctant to reveal their propaganda
operations to them. As a result, for its Far East daily report
the FBIS frequently monitored and distributbed the texts of
programs actually originating from the agency's secret stations
on Taiwan along with the transcripts of broadcasts from real
counter-revolutionary organizations on the mainland.

CIA operators seemed untroubled by this development
and the accompanying fact that the agency's own China
analysts back at headquarters in Washington (along with
their colleagues in the State and Defense departments) were
being somewhat misled. Nor did they appear to mind that
unwitting scholars and newsmen were publishing articles based
to some extent on the phony information being reported by
the FBIS. Eventually the CIA analysts at home were in-
formed of the existence of the clandestine radios, but no
steps were taken to rectify the false data passed on to the
other U.S. government agencies or to the press and academia;

Propaganda and Disinformation

141

operational security precluded such revelations. Besides, Com-
munist China was an enemy, and the writings of recognized
journalists and professors publicizing its stale of near chaos
and potential rebellion helped to discredit Peking in the eyes
of the world — which was, after all, in keeping with the CIA's
interpretation of American foreign policy at the time. The
CIA's secret radios thu.s proved to be highly .succes.sful, even
after the Chinese government discovered their origin and
announced to its people that the broadcasts were false.

Meanwhile, the agency's operatives turned to outright
disinformation in their effort to e.\ploit China's internal
difficulties. For example,

12 LINES DELETED

began to show results. The Red Guards turned their fury on
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, demanding that Chinese
diplomats, too, be cleansed of Western ways and rededi-
cated to Mao's principles of communism.

22 LINES DELETED

To be sure, propaganda and disinformation are not new pheno-
mena. Nations and factions within nations have long employed
such techniques to enhance their own images while at the same
time attempting to discredit their enemies and rivals. Yet the
great advances in communications during the twentieth cen-
tury have vastly changed the potential of propagandistic effort,
making possible rapid, widespread distribution of propaganda
material. Nazi Germany refined and made enormous use of
the "big lie." The Soviet Union and other communist countries
have used many of the methods invented by the Germans and
have added new twists of their own. Although the United
States did not actively enter the field until World War II, when
the OSS and the Office of War Information (OWI) started
their psychological-warfare programs, its propaganda effort
has grown — under the eyes of the Covert Action Staff of the
CIA's Clandestine Services — to be thoroughly expert.

Working on the CA Staff are sociologists, psychologists,
historians, and media specialists — all skilled at selecting
"reachable" targets, such as the youth or intellectuals of a
particular country, and at getting a message through to them.
In planning and carrying out its activities, the branch often

142

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

works closely with other agency officers, in the area divisions.
The idea for an operation may be initiated by a field
component — say, a station in Africa or Latin America — that
sees a special need or a target of opportunity within its area
of responsibility; it may originate at headquarters in Langley,
either in the propaganda branch or in one of the area divisions;
or it may come from the White House, the State Department,
the Pentagon, or any member of the U.S. intelligence com-
munity in the form of a requirement for the CIA to take
action. If it is considered to be a program of major political
significance or entailing an inherent high-risk factor — that is,
if its exp>osure would cause substantial embarrassment for
the U.S. government — a project proposal developed in the
Clandestine Services is submitted to the Director's office for
review. Subsequently, the plan is sent to the 40 Committee
for final approval. Thenceforth, control of any propaganda
operation and responsibility for its coordination within the
Clandestine Services and the government may rest with ei-
ther the Covert Action Staff or an area division. Certain
longstanding operations, such as Radio Free Europe and
Radio Liberty, were traditionally under the control of the
CA Staff. But responsibility for the newer and smaller opera-
tions usually is determined on an ad hoc basis, with the CA
Staff serving in either an advisory or controlling capacity,
depending on the circumstances of the particular undertaking.

A propaganda operation might not be anything more sinis-
ter than broadcasting straight news reports or rock music to
the countries of Eastern Europe. Others are far more devious.
For example, the CIA used secret agents to plant extremely
negative and often distorted articles about communism in the
Chilean press in the period before the 1970 presidential elec-
tion in that country. The purpose was to discredit the candi-
dacy of Marxist Salvador Allende.

6 LINES DELETED

The CIA also makes considerable use of forged documents.*
During the mid-1960s, for instance, the agency learned that a

*Wa(ergale burglar E. Howard Hunt was questioned in 1973 about his forgery
of a State Department cable directly linking the Kennedy administration to
the assassination of South Vietnamese President Ngo Dinh Diem. "After all."
Hunt told the federal prosecutor, "I had been given some training in my past
CIA career to do just this sort of thing . . . Iloating forged newspaper accounts,
telegrams, that son of thing."

Propaganda and Disinformation

143

certain West African country was about to recognize the
People's Republic of China and that the local government
intended to force the withdrawal of the diplomatic represen-
tatives of Nationalist China. This was considered to be con-
trary to American foreign-policy aims, so the CIA went into
action.

6 LINES DELETED

The Pentagon Papers have revealed some other examples
of CIA propaganda and disinformation activities. One top-
secret document written in 1954 by Colonel Edward Lansdale,
then an agency operator, describes an effort involving North
Vietnamese astrologers hired to write predictions about the
coming disasters which would befall certain Vietminh lend-
ers and their undertakings, and the success and unity which
awaited the South.

Lansdale also mentioned that personnel under his con-
trol hud engineered a black psywar strike in Hanoi:
leaflets signed by the Vietminh instructing Tunkinese on
how to behave for the Vietminh takeover of the Hanoi
region in early October, including items about property,
money reform, and a three-day holiday of workers on
takeover. The day following the distribution of these
leaflets, refugee registration tripled. Two days later
Vietminh took to the radio to denounce the leaflets; the
leaflets were so authentic in appearance that even most
of the rank and file Vietminh were sure that the radio
denunciations were a French trick.

Lansdale's black propaganda also had an effect on the
American press. One of his bogus leaflets came to the atten-
tion of syndicated columnist Joseph Alsop, who was then
touring South Vietnam. The leaflet, indicating that many
South Vietnamese were to be sent to China to work on the
railroads, seemed to have been written by the communists.
Alsop naively accepted the leaflet at face value and, accord-
ing to Lansdale, this "led to his sensational, gloomy articles
later. . . . Alsop was never told this story." Nor, of course,
was the false impression left with Alsop's readers ever
corrected.

CIA propaganda activities also entail the publication of

144

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

books and periodicals. Over the years, the agency has pro-
vided direct subsidies to a number of magazines and publish-
ing houses, ranging from Eastern European 6migr6 organs
to such reputable firms as Frederick A. Praeger, of New
York — which admitted in 1%7 that it had published "fifteen
or sixteen books" at the CIA's request.

II LINES DELETED

Many other anti-communist publishing concerns in Ger-
many, Italy, and France were also supported and encour-
aged by the agency during the post-World War II years.
( DELETED ) According to a

former high-ranking agency official,

2 LINES DELETED

and the Parisian newspaper "Le Combat." This same
ex-official also recalls with an ironic smile that for sev-
eral years the agency subsidized the New York commu-
nist paper. The Daily Worker. In fairness to the Worker's
staff, it must be noted that they were unaware of the
CIA's assistance, which came in the form of several
thousand secretly purchased prepaid subscriptions. The
CIA apparently hoped to demonstrate by this means to
the American public that the threat of communism in
this country was indeed real.

Although the CIA inherited from the OSS responsibility for
covert propaganda operations, the agency has no specific
authority in the open law to engage in such operations —
other than the vague charge to carry out "such other func-
tions and duties related to intelligence affecting the national
security as the National Security Council may from time to
time direct." Yet since its founding in 1947 the CIA has spent
over one billion dollars for propaganda activities (mainly
foreign but also domestic) to further what it perceived to be
the national interests of the United States.

Sometimes this means simp ly telling the truth to an aud i-
ence ^called "white" propag anda): otner limes a mixtur~ of
truths , half-truths, an d sligm "Sirtoriions is m> ed to sian i'the
Views o\ Ihe audience ("sray" propa"ga7i(^ra nd, on o ccasion ,
outri ght lies (" black'' prop 3g?ii'tra 7'gn! tiSed, aithougfi' usii-

Propaganda and Disinformation

145

ally accompanied for credibility's sake by some truths and
half-truths.

"Black" propaganda on the one hand and "disinformation"
on the other are virtually indistinguishable. Both refer to the
spreading of false information in order to influence people's
opinions or actions. Disinformation actually is a special type
of "black" propaganda which hinges on absolute secrecy and
which is usually supported by false documents; originally, it
was something of a Soviet specialty, and the Russian word
for it, dezinformatsiya. is virtually a direct analogue of our
own. Within the KGB there is even a Department of
Disinformation.

On June 2, 1961 (less than two months after the CIA's
humiliating failure at the Bay of Pigs), Richard Helms, then
Deputy Director of the Clandestine Services, briefed the
Senate Internal Security Subcommittee on communist for-
geries. Helms discussed thirty-two fraudulent documents
"packaged to look like communications to or from Ameri-
can officials." Twenty-two were meant to demonstrate impe-
rialist American plans and ambitions; seventeen of these
asserted U.S. interference in the affairs of several free-world
countries. Of the seventeen, eleven charged U.S. interven-
tion in the private business of Asian nations. One was a fake
secret agreement between the Secretary of State and Japan-
ese Premier Kishi permitting use of Japanese troops any-
where in Asia. Another alleged that American policy in
Southeast Asia called for U.S. control of the armed forces of
all S.E. A.T.O. nations. Two forgeries offered proof that the
Americans were plotting the overthrow of Indonesia's
Sukarno; the remaining two were merely meant to demon-
strate that the U.S. government, despite official disclaimers,
was secretly supplying the anti-Sukarno rebels with military
aid.

These last examples concerning Indonesia are especially
interesting. A cursory examination of the documents, as
submitted by Helms, indicates that they were indeed rather
crude forgeries, but their message was accurate. Not only
did the CIA in 1958 support efforts to overthrow the Su-
karno government, but Helms himself, as second-ranking
official in Clandestine Services, knew it well. And he knew
that the "official dislaimers" to which he referred were de-
ceptions and outright lies issued by U.S. government
spokesmen. Helms' testimony was released to the public

146

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

with the approval of the CIA, which was, in effect, targeting
ci propaganda operation against the American people. Not
only did he lie about the communists' lying (which is not to
say that they are not indeed culpable), but Helms in the
process quite ably managed to avoid discussion of the perva-
sive lying the CIA commits in the name of the United
States.

The Radios

Until 1971. the CIA's largest propaganda operations by far
were Radio Free Europe (RFE) and Radio Liberty (RL).
RFE broadcast to Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Ro-
mania, and Bulgaria, while RL was aimed at the Soviet
Union. These ostensibly private stations had been started by
the agency in the early 1950s at the height of the Cold War.
They operated under the cover provided by their New York-
based boards of directors, which were made up principally of
distinguished statesmen, retired military leaders, and corpo-
rate executives. With studios in Munich and transmitters in
West Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Taiwan, the two sta-
tions broadcast thousands of hours of programs a year into
the communist countries. Their combined annual budgets
ranged from S30 to S35 million, and the CIA financed over 95
percent of the costs.*

In their early years, both RFE and RL quite stridently
promoted the "rolling back" of the Iron Curtain. (Radio
Liberty was originally named Radio Liberation.) The tone of
their broadcasts softened considerably in the aftermath of
the 1956 Hungarian revolt, when RFE was subjected to se-
vere criticism for its role in seeming to incite continued, but
inevitably futile, resistance by implying that American assis-
tance would be forthcoming. During and after the Hungarian
events, it became quite clear that the United States would
not actively participate in freeing the captive nations, and

*A paniculdrly deceptive aspect of the RFE operation was. and is. the annual
fund-raising drive carried out in the United Slates. Under the auspices of the
Advertising Council. RFE sohcits funds with the clear implication that if
money is not donated by the American public the station will no longer be
able In function and the "truth" will not get through to Eastern Europe.
Although between S12 and S2U million in free advertising time was made
available in IVAU, for example, less than SICXI.IXX) was raised from a not terribly
alarmed public.

Propaganda and Disinformation

147

the emphasis at both RFE and RL was changed to promote
liberalization within the communist system through peaceful
change. The CIA continued, however, to finance both stations,
to provide them with key personnel, and to control program
content.

The ostensible mission of RFE and RL was to provide
accurate information to the people of Eastern Europe. In
this aim they were largely successful, and their programs
reached millions of listeners. While RFE and RL broadcasts
contained a certain amount of distortion, they were, espe-
cially in the early years, considerably more accurate than the
Eastern European media. But to many in the CIA the pri-
mary value of the radios was to sow discontent in Eastern
Europe and, in the process, to weaken the communist
governments. Hard-liners in the agency pointed to the social
agitation in Poland which brought Wladyslaw Gomulka to
power in 1956, the Hungarian uprising in 1956, and the fall of
Czech Stalinist Antonin Novotny in 1967 as events which
RFE helped to bring about. Others in the CIA did not
specifically connect RFE or RL to such dramatic occurrences,
but instead stressed the role of the two stations in the more
gradual de-Stalinization and liberalization of Eastern Europe.

Like most propaganda operations, RFE's and RL's princi-
pal effect has been to contribute to existing trends in their
target areas and sometimes to accentuate those trends. Even
when events in Eastern Europe have worked out to the
agency's satisfaction, any direct contribution by the radios
would be nearly impossible to prove. In any case, whatever
the success of the two stations, the CIA intended from the
beginning that they play an activist role in the affairs of
Eastern Europe — well beyond being simply sources of accu-
rate news. For, in addition to transmitting information to
Eastern Europe and harassing the communist governments,
RFE and RL have also provided the Clandestine Services
with the covert assets which could be used against the Soviet
Union and Eastern Europe.

The two radio stations, with their large staffs of Eastern
European refugees, are a ready-made source of agents,
contacts, information, and cover for operations. Among fur-
ther radio-derived sources of intelligence was the compara-
tively large number of letters RFE and RL received from
their listeners in Eastern Europe. Delivered by mail and by
travelers coming to the West, these letters were considered

148

The CIA and the Cub of Inielligence

by the agency's clandestine operators to be an intelligence-
collection resource. RFE and RL emigre personnel used the
letters and other information available to the stations to
prepare written analyses of what was happening in the East.
Much of this analysis, however, was thought to be of doubt-
ful value back at CIA headquarters, and was held in low
esteem throughout the U.S. intelligence community.

However debatable the direct effect of RFE and RL on
events in Eastern Europe, the governments of the commu-
nist countries obviously were quite disturbed by the stations.
E.xtensive efforts were made to jam their signals, and by the
late 19S0s the communist intelligence services were actively
trying to discredit the stations and to infiltrate the radios'
staffs. In many cases, they succeeded, and by the mid-1960s
the general view at CIA headquarters was that the two
facilities were widely penetrated by communist agents and
that much of the analysis coming out of Munich was based
on false information planted by oppwsition agents. During
this same time the spirit of East-West diienie was growing,
and many officers in the CIA thought that RFE and RL had
outlived their usefulness. Supporters of the stations were
finding it increasingly difficult at budget time to justify their
yearly costs. Even the Eastern European governments were
showing a declining interest in the stations, and the jamming
efforts fell off considerably.

The agency carried out several internal studies on the
utility of RFE and RL, and the results in each case favored
phasing out CIA funding. But after each study a few old-
timers in the CIA, whose connections with the stations went
back to their beginnings, would come up with new and
dubious reasons why the radios should be continued. The
emotional attachment of these veteran operators to RFE
and RL was extremely strong. Also defending the stations
were those influential personalities, like former N.A.T.O.
chief Lucius Clay, CBS president Frank Stanton, and Gen-
eral Motors chairman James Roche, who made up the radios'
boards of directors. All of these efforts ran counter to at-
tempts of the CIA's own Planning, Programming and Bud-
geting Staff to end agency support. Additionally, the CIA's
top management appeared reluctant to part with the stations
because of a fear that if the S30 to S3S million in annual
payments were ended, that money would be irrevocably lost
to the CIA. Each internal agency study which called for the

Propaganda and Disinformation

149

end of the CIA's involvement invariably led to nothing more
than yet another study being made.

Thus, bureaucratic inertia, the unwillingness of the USIA
to take over the radios' functions, and well-placed lobbying
efforts by RFE and RL boards of directors combined to
keep CIA funds flowing into both stations through the 1960s.
Even when agency financing of the stations became widely
known during the 1967 scandal surrounding the CIA's pene-
tration and manipulation of the National Student Association,
the agency did not reduce its support. In the aftermath of
that scandal. President Johnson's special review group, the
Katzenbach committee, recommended that the CIA not be
allowed to finance "any of the nation's educational or pri-
vate voluntary organizations." Still, with the approval of
the White House, the agency did not let go of RFE or RL.

No change occurred until January 197 1 , when Senator Clif-
ford Case of New Jersey spoke out against the CIA subsidies
to the radios and proposed legislation for open funding.

Case's move attracted quite a bit of attention in the media
and it became obvious that the Senator was not going to
backdown in the face of administration pressure. When the
Senate Foreign Relations Committee scheduled hearings on
Case's bill and the Senator threatened to call former RFE
employees as witnesses, the CIA decided that the time had
come to divest itself of the two stations. Open congressional
funding became a reality, and by the end of 1971 CIA finan-
cial involvement in RFE and RL was officially ended. Whether
the agency has also dropped all its covert assets connected
with them is not known, but, given past experience, that is
not likely. For the tims being, the largest threat to the
future of RFE and RL would seem to be not Congress,
which will probably vote money indefinitely, but the West
German government of Willy Brandt. Now that the stations
are in the open, Bonn faces pressure from the Eastern
European countries to forbid them to broadcast on German
soil.

2 LINES DELETED

but he still might at some point accept the argument, as part
of an effort to further the East-West detente, that RFE and
RL represent unnecessary obstacles to improved relations.

150

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Other Propaganda Operations

The CIA has always been interested in reaching and encour-
aging dissidents in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. In
the early days of the Cold War, the agency sent its own
agents and substantial amounts of money behind the Iron
Curtain to keep things stirred up. mostly with disastrous
results. In more recent times, operations against Eastern
Europe and the U.S. S R. have become less Trequent and
less crude. The agency, however, has continued to maintain
its contacts with emigr£ groups in Western Europe and the
United States. These groups are sometimes well informed on
what is happening in their home countries, and they often
provide a conduit for the CIA in its dealings with dissidents
in those countries.

One such group is . . . The main value . . . to the CIA has
been its role . . . the CIA 's ... is obviously a relic of the early
Cold War . . . no American interest would be at all harmed
by a cut-off of . . . and, in fact, a cut-off would have a
beneficial effect. Nevertheless, as was the case with . . . the
CIA has been extremely reluctant to abandon ... a coven
asset, even after the Agency's own Planning and Program-
ming Staff has found the emigre group to be of only
marginal usefulness.

Another organization heavily subsidized by the CIA was
the Asia Foundation. Established by the agency in 1956, with
a carefully chosen board of directors, the foundation was
designed to promote academic and public interest in the
East. It sponsored scholarly research, supported conferences
and symposia, and ran academic exchange programs, with
a CIA subsidy that reached $88 million a year. While
most of the foundation's activities were legitimate, the
CIA also used it, through penetration among the officers
and members, to fund anti-communist academicians in vari-
ous Asian countries, to disseminate throughout Asia a nega-
tive vision of mainland China, North Vietnam, and North
Korea, and to recruit foreign agents and new case officers.
Although the foundation often served as a cover for clandes-
tine operations, its main purpose was to promote the spread
of ideas which were anti-communist and pro-American —
sometimes subtly and sometimes stridently.

The focus of the Asia Foundation's activities was overseas,
but the organization's impact tended to be greater in the

Propaganda and Disinformation

151

American academic community than in the Far East. Large
numbers of American intellectuals participated in founda-
tion programs, and they — usually unwittingly — contributed
to the popularizing of CIA ideas about the Far East.
Designed — and justified at budget time — as an overseas
propaganda operation, the Asia Foundation also was regu-
larly guilty of propagandizing the American people with
agency views on Asia.

The agency's connection with the Asia Foundation came
to light just after the 1967 exposure of CIA subsidies to the
National Student A.ssociiition. The foundation clearly was
one of the organizations which the CIA was banned from
financing and, under the recommendations of the Katzenbach
committee, the decision was made to end CIA funding. A
complete cut-off after 1967. however, would have forced the
foundation to shut down, so the agency made it the benefi-
ciary of a large "severance payment" in order to give it a
couple of years to develop alternative sources of funding.
Assuming the CIA has not resumed covert financing, the
Asia Foundation has apparently made itself self-sufficient by
now.

During the 1960s the CIA developed proprietary compa-
nies of a new type for use in propaganda operations. These
proprietaries are more compact and more covert than rela-
tively unwieldy and now exposed fronts like the Asia Foun-
dation and Radio Free Europe.

27 LINES DELETED

More and more, as the United States cuts back its overt aid
programs and withdraws from direct involvement in foreign
countries, the agency will probably be called upon to carry
out similar missions in other nations.

The CIA has also used defectors from communist govern-
ments for propaganda purposes — a practice which has had
more impact in this country than overseas. These defectors,
without any prodding by the CIA, would have interesting
stories to tell of politics and events in their homelancls, but
almost all are immediately taken under the CIA's control
and subjected to extensive secret debriefings at a special
defector reception center near Frankfurt, West Germany,
or, in the cases of particularly knowledgeable ones, at agency

152

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

"safe houses" in the United States. In return for the intelli-
gence supplied about the defector's former life and work,
the CIA usually takes care of his resettlement in the West,
even providing a new identity if necessary. Sometimes, after
the lengthy debriefing has been finished, the agency will
encourage — and will help — the defector to write articles or
books about his past life. As he may still be living at a CIA
facility or be dependent on the agency for his livelihood, the
defector would be extremely reluctant to jeopardize his fu-
ture by not cooperating. The CIA does not try to alter the
defector's writings drastically; it simply influences him to
leave out certain information because of security consider-
ations, or because the thrust of the information runs counter
(o existing American policy. The inclusion of information
justifying U.S. or CIA practices is, of course, encouraged,
and the CIA will provide whatever literary assistance is
needed by the defector. While such books tend to show the
communist intelligence services as diabolical and unprinci-
pled organs (which they are), almost never do these books
descnbe triumphs by the opposition services over the CIA.
Although the other side does indeed win on occasion, the
agency would prefer that the world did not know that. And
the defector dependent on the CIA will hardly act counter to
its interests.

In helping the defector with his writing, the agency often
steers him toward a publisher. Even some of the public-
relations aspects of promoting his book may be aided by the
CIA, as in the case of Major Ladislav Bittman, a Czech
intelligence officer who defected in 1968. Prior to the 1972
publication of his book. The Deception Game, Bittman was
interviewed by the Wall Street Journal, which quoted him on
U.S. intelligence's use of the disinformation techniques. "It
was our opinion," the former Czech operative said, "that
the Americans had more effective means than this sort of
trickery — things such as economic-aid programs — that were
more influential than any black propaganda operation."

While Bittman may well have been reflecting attitudes
held by his former colleagues in Czech intelligence, his words
must be considered suspect. The Czechs almost certainly
know something about the CIA's propaganda and disinfor-
mation programs, just as the CIA knows of theirs. But
Bittman's statement, taken along with his extensive descrip-
tion of Czech and Russian disinformation programs, reflects

Propaganda and Disinformation

153

exactly the image the CIA wants to promote to the Ameri-
can public — that the communists are always out to defraud
the West, while the CIA, skillfully uncovering these deceits,
eschews such unprincipled tactics.

To the CIA, propaganda through book publishing has
long been a successful technique. In 1953 the agency backed
the publication of a book called The Dynamics of Soviet
Society, which was written by Walt Rostow, later President
Johnson's Assistant for National Security Affairs, and other
members of the staff of the Center for International Studies
at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The center had
been set up with CIA money in 1950, and this book was
published in two versions, one classiFied (for the CIA and
government policy-makers) and the other unclassified (for
the public). Both versions, except in some minor details,
promoted the thesis that the Soviet Union is an imperialistic
power bent on world conquest, and that it is the responsibil-
ity of the United States to blunt the communist menace.

Most CIA book operations, however, are more subtle and
clandestine. A former CIA official who specialized in Soviet
affairs recalls how one day in 1967 a CIA operator on the
Covert Action Staff showed him a book called The Foreign
Aid Programs of the Soviet Bloc and Communist China by a
German named Kurt Muller. The book looked interesting to
the Soviet expert, and he asked to borrow it. The Covert
Action man replied, "Keep it. We've got hundreds more
downstairs." Muller's book was something less than an unbi-
ased treatment of the subject; it was highly critical of commu-
nist foreign assistance to the Third World. The Soviet specialist
is convinced that the agency had found out Muller was
interested in communist foreign-aid programs, encouraged
him to write a book which would have a strong anti-communist
slant, provided him with information, and then helped to get
the book published and distributed.

Financing books is a standard technique used by all intelli-
gence services. Many writers are glad to write on subjects
which will further their own careers, and with a slant that
will contribute to the propaganda objectives of a friendly
agency. Books of this sort, however, add only a false aura of
respectability and authority to the information the intelli-
gence agency would like to see spread — even when that
information is perfectly accurate — because they are by defini-
tion restricted from presenting an objective analysis of the

154

The CIA and the Cult o f Intelligence

subject under consideration. And once exposed, both the
writer and his data become suspect. The CIA 's most famous
venture in book publishing was The Penkovsky Papers. This
chronicle of spying for the West inside the Kremlin appeared
in 1965, and it was allegedly taken from the journal of the
acituil spy. Colonel Oleg Penkovsky.

Spies, however, do not keep journals. They simply do not
take this kind of risk, nor do they have the time to do so
while they are leading double lives. . . . Tlie Soviet Govern-
ment obviously knew that he had spied for the West, but it
could not be sure of what specific information he had turned
over. . . .

Allen Dulles seemed to be rubbing salt in their wounds
when he wrote in The Craft of Intelligence that the Penkovsky
defection had shaken the Soviet intelligence services with
the knowledge that the West had located Russian officials
willing to work "in place for long periods of time," and
others who "have never been surfaced" and [who] for their
own protection must remain unknown to the public."

And, of course, the publication of The Penkovsky Papers
opened the Soviets up to the embarrassment of having the
world learn that the top level of their government had been
penetrated by a Western spy. Furthermore, Penkovsky's
success as an agent made the CIA look good, both to the
American people and to the rest of the world Failures such
as the Bay of Pigs might be forgiven and forgotten if the
agency could recruit agents like Penkovsky to accomplish
the one task the CIA is weakest at — gathering intelligence
from inside the Soviet Union or China.

The facts were otherwise, however. In the beginning,
Penkovsky was not a CIA spy. He worked for British
intelligence. He had tried to join the CIA in Turkey, but he
had been turned down, in large part because the Soviet Bloc
Division of the Clandestine Services was overly careful not
to be taken in by KGB provocateurs and double agents. To
the skittish CIA operators, Penkovsky seemed too good to
be true, especially in the period following the Burgess-McLean
catastrophe. The CIA had also suffered several recent de-
feats at the hands of the KGB in Europe, and it was under-
standably reluctant to be duped again.

Penkovsky, however, was determined to spy for the West,
and in 1960 he made contact with British intelligence, which
eventually recruited him. The British informed the CIA of

Propaganda and Disinformation

155

Penkovsky's availability and offered to conduct the opera-
tion as a joint project. CIA operators in Moscow and else-
where participated in the elaborate clandestine techniques
used to receive information from Penkovsky and to debrief
the Soviet spy on his visits to Western Europe.

3 LINES DELETED

The Penkovsky Papers was a best-seller around the world,
and especially in the United States. Its publication certainly
caused discomfort in the Soviet Union.

9V2 LINES DELETED

Richard Melms years later again referred to Penkovsky in
this vein, although not by name, when he claimed in a speech
before the American Society of Newspaper Editors that "a
number of well-placed and courageous Russians . . . helped
us" in uncovering the Soviet move. One person taken in by
this deception was Senator Milton Young of North Dakota,
who serves on the CIA oversight subcommittee. In a 1971
Senate debate on cutting the intelligence budget, the Sena-
tor said, "And if you want to read something very interest-
ing and authoritative where intelligence is concerned, read
the Penkovsky papers . . . this is a very interesting story, on
why the intelligence we had in Cuba was so important to us,
and on what the Russians were thinking and just how far
they would go."

Yet the CIA intelligence analysts who were working on
the Cuban problem at the time of the missile crisis and
preparing the agency's intelligence reports for the President
up to and after the discovery of the Soviet missiles saw no
such information from Penkovsky or any other Soviet spy.
The key intelligence that led to the discovery of the missiles
came from the analysis of satellite photography of the
U.S.S.R., Soviet ship movements, U-2 photographs of Cuba,
and information supplied by Cuban refugees. Penkovsky's
technical background information, provided well before the
crisis, was of some use — but not of major or critical
importance.

Several scholars of the Soviet Union have independently
characterized The Penkovsky Papers as being partly bogus
and as not having come from Penkovsky's "journal." The

156

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

respected Soviet expert and columnist for the Manchester
Guardian and the Washington Post, Victor Zorza, wrote that
"the book could have been compiled only by the Central
Intelligence Agency." Zorza pointed out that Penkovsky
had neither the time nor the opportunity to have produced
such a manuscript; that the book's publisher (Doubleday
and Company) and translator (Peter Deriabin, himself a
KGB defector to the CIA) both refused to produce the
original Russian manuscript for inspection; and that The
Penkovsky Papers contained errors of style, technique, and
fact that Penkovsky would not have made.

British intelligence also was not above scoring a propa-
ganda victory of its own in the Penkovsky affair. Penkovsky's
contact officer had been MI-6's Greville Wynne, who, work-
ing under the cover of being a businessman, had been ar-
rested at the same time as Penkovsky and later exchanged
for the Soviet spy Gordon Lonsdale. When Wynne returned
to Britain, IVII-6 helped him write a booli about his expe-
riences, called Contact on Corky Street. British intelligence
wanted the book published in part to make some money for
Wynne, who had gone through the ordeal of a year and a
half in Soviet prisons, but the MI-6's main motive was to
counteract the extremely unfavorable publicity that had been
generated by the defection of its own senior officer, Harold
"Kim" Philby, in 1963, and the subsequent publication of his
memoirs prepared under the auspices of the KGB.

Interestingly, nowhere in Contact on Gorky Street does
Wynne cite the help he received from the CIA. The reason
for this omission could have been professional jealousy on
the part of British intelligence, good British manners (i.e.,
not mentioning the clandestine activities of a friendly intelli-
gence service), or most likely, an indication of the small role
played by the CIA in the operation.

Another book-publishing effort in which the CIA may or
may not have been involved — to some degree — was Khru-
shchev Remembers, and the second volume of Khrushchev
memoirs scheduled for publication this year. While these
autobiographical and somewhat self-serving works unques-
tionably originated with the former Soviet premier himself,
there are a number of curious circumstances connected with
their transmission from Moscow to Time Inc. in New York,
and to its book-publishing division. Little, Brown and
Company. Time Inc. has been less than forthcoming about

Propaganda and Disinformation

157

how it gained access to the 180 hours of taped reminiscences
upon which the books are based, and how the tapes were
taken out of the U.S.S.R. without the knowledge of the
Soviet government or the ubiquitous and proficient KGB.
The whole operation— especially its political implication — was
simply too important to have been permitted without at least
tacit approval by Soviet authorities. Unlike Alexander
Solzhenitsyn, Khrushchev was subsequently neither denounced
nor exiled by Moscow's all-powerful party chiefs.

Most of the explanations offered by Time Inc. to clarify
the various mysteries involved in this episode have a slightly
disingenuous air. They may be true, but a number of highly
regarded American and British scholars and intelligence offi-
cers dealing with Soviet affairs find them difficult to accept
in toto. Why, for example, did Time Inc. find it necessary to
take the risky step of sending a copy of the bound galleys of
the book to its Moscow bureau — secretly via Helsinki — before
it was published? The complete story of the Khrushchev
memoirs, in short, may never be publicly known. And if it
is, it may turn out to be another example of secret U.S.-
Soviet cooperation, of two hostile powers giving wide circu-
lation to information that each wants to see published, while
collaborating to keep their operations away from the eyes of
the general public on both sides. After all, the publication of
the first volume in 1971 had a relatively happy effect — it
supported Moscow's anti-Stalinists, and in turn increased the
prospect for detente.

7.

ESPIONAGE AND COUNTERESPIONAGE

The soul of the spy is somehow the model or us all.

— JACOUI-:S HARZUN

Intelligence agencies, in the popular view, are organizations
of glamorous master spies who, in the best tradition of
James Bond, daringly uncover the evil intentions of a nation's
enemies. In reality, however, the CIA has had compara-
tively little success in acquiring intelligence through secret
agents. This classical form of espionage has for many years
ranked considerably below space satellites, code-breaking,
and other forms of technical collection as a source of impor-
tant foreign information to the U.S. government. Even open
sources (the press and other communications media) and
official channels (diplomats, military attaches, and the like)
provide more valuable information than the Clandestine Ser-
vices of the CIA. Against its two principal targets, the Soviet
Union and Communist China, the effectiveness of CIA spies
is virtually nil. With their closed societies and powerful
internal-security organizations, the communist countries have
proved practically impenetrable to the CIA.

To be sure, the agency has pulled off an occasional espio-
nage coup, but these have generally involved "walk-ins"
— defectors who take the initiative in offering their services
to the agency. Remember that in 1955, when Oleg Penkovsky
first approached CIA operators in Ankara, Turkey, to dis-
cuss the possibility of becoming an agent, he was turned
away, because it was feared that he might be a double agent.
Several years later, he was recruited by bolder British intelli-
gence officers. Nearly all of the other Soviets and Chinese
who either spied for the CIA or defected to the West did so
without being actively recruited by America's leading espio-
nage agency.

Technically speaking, anyone who turns against his govern-
ment is a defector. A successfully recruited agent or a walk-in
who offers his services as a spy is known as a defector-in-
place. He has not yet physically deserted his country, but

Espionage and Counterespionage 159

has in fact defected politically in secret. Refugees and emigres
are also defectors, and the CIA often uses them as spies
when they can be persuaded to risk return to their native
lands. In general, a defector is a person who has recently
bolted his country and is simply willing to trade his knowl-
edge of his former government's activities for political asy-
lum in another nation; that some defections are accompanied
by a great deal of publicity is generally due to the CIA's
desire to obtain public approbation of its work.

Escapees from the U.S.S.R. and Eastern Europe are han-
dled by the CIA's defector reception center at Camp King
near Frankfurt, West Germany. There they are subjected to
extensive debriefing and interrogation by agency officers
who are experts at draining from them their full informa-
tional potential. Some defectors are subjected to questioning
that lasts for months; a few are interrogated for a year or
more.

A former CIA chief of station in Germany remembers
with great amusement his role in supervising the lengthy
debriefing of a Soviet lieutenant, a tank-platoon commander,
who fell in love with a Czech girl and fled with her to the
West after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. The
ex-agency senior officer relates how he had to play marriage
counselor when the couple's relationship started to sour,
causing the lieutenant to lose his willingness to talk. By
saving the romance, the chief of station succeeded in keep-
ing the information flowing from the Soviet lieutenant. Al-
though a comparatively low-level Soviet defector of this sort
would seem to have small potential for providing useful
intelligence, the CIA has had so little success in penetrating
the Soviet military that the lieutenant underwent months of
questioning. Through him, agency analysts were able to
learn much about how Soviet armor units, and the ground
forces in general, are organized, their training and tactical
procedures, and the mechanics of their participation in the
build-up that preceded the invasion of Czechoslovakia. This
was hardly intelligence of strategic importance, but the CIA's
Clandestine Services have no choice but to pump each low-
level Soviet defector for all he is worth.

The same former chief of station also recalls with pride
the defection of Yevgeny Runge, a KGB illegal (or "deep
cover" agent) in late 1967. Runge, like the more infamous
Colonel Rudolf Abel from Brooklyn and Gordon Lonsdale

160

The CIA and ihe Cull of Intelligence

of London, was a Soviet operator who lived for years under
an assumed identity in West Germany. Unlike his colleagues,
however, he was not exposed and arrested. Instead, Runge
defected to the CIA when he lost interest in his clandestine
work. According to the ex-agency official, Runge was of
greater intelligence value to the U.S. government than
Penkovsky. This assessment, however, is highly debatable
because Runge provided no information which the CIA's
intelligence analysts found to be useful in determining Soviet
strategic capabilities or intentions. On the other hand, the
KGB defector did reveal much concerning the methods and
techniques of Soviet clandestine intelligence operations in
Germany. To CIA operators who have been unsuccessful in
penetrating the Soviet government and who have conse-
quently become obsessed with the actions of the opposition,
the defection of an undercover operator like Runge repre-
sents a tremendous emotional windfall, and they are inclined
to publicize it as an intelligence coup.

Once the CIA is satisfied that a defector has told all that
he knows, the resettlement team takes over. The team's
objective is to find a place for the defector to live where he
will be free from the fear of reprisal and happy enough
neither to disclose his connections with the CIA nor, more
important, to be tempted to return to his native country.
Normally, the team works out a cover story for the defector,
invents a new identity for him, and gives him enough money
(often a lifetime pension) to make the transition to a new
way of life. The most important defectors are brought to the
United States (either before or after their debriefing), but
the large majority are permanently settled in Western Europe,
Canada, or Latin America.*

The defector's adjustment to his new country is often
quite difficult. For security reasons, he is usually cut off
from any contact with his native land and, therefore, from
his former friends and those members of his family who did
not accompany him into exile. He may not even know the
language of the country where he is living. Thus, a large
percentage of defectors become psychologically depressed
with their new lives once the initial excitement of resettle-

'On occasion, a defector will be hired as a contract employee to do specialized
work as a translator, interrogator, counterintelligence analyst, or Ihe like, for
the Cliindcstine Services.

Espionage and Counterespionage 161

ment wears off. A few have committed suicide. To try to
keep the defector content, the CIA assigns a case officer to
each one for as long as is thought necessary. The case officer
stays in regular contact with the defector and helps solve any
problems that may arise. With a particularly volatile defector,
the agency maintains even closer surveillance, including tele-
phone taps and mail intercepts, to guard against unwanted
developments.

In some instances, case officers will watch over the defec-
tor for the rest of his life. More than anything else, the
agency wants no defector to become so dissatisfied that he
will be tempted to return to his native country. Of course,
redefection usually results in a propaganda victory for the
opposition; of greater consequence, however, is the fact that
the defector probably will reveal everything he knows about
the CIA in order to ease his penalty for having defected in
the first place. Moreover, when a defector does return home,
the agency has to contend with the nagging fear that all
along it has been dealing with a double agent and that all the
intelligence he revealed was part of a plot to mislead the
CrA. The possibilities for deception in the defector game are
endless, and the communist intelligence services have not
failed to take advantage of them.

Bugs and Other Devices

Strictly speaking, classical espionage uses human beings to
gather information; technical espionage employs machines,
such as photographic satellites, long-range electronic sensors,
and communications-intercept stations. Technical collection
systems were virtually unknown before World War II, but
the same technological explosion which has affected nearly
every other aspect of modern life over the last twenty-five
years has also drastically changed the intelligence trade.
Since the war, the United States has poured tens of billions
of dollars into developing ever more advanced machines to
keep track of what other countries — especially communist
countries — are doing. Where once the agent sought secret
information with little support beyond his own wits, he now
is provided with a dazzling assortment of audio devices,
miniaturized cameras, and other exotic tools.

Within the CIA's Clandestine Services, the Technical Ser-
vices Division (TSD) is responsible for developing most of

162

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

the equipment used in the modern spying game. Some of the
paraphernalia is unusual: a signal transmitter disguised as a
false tooth, a pencil which looks and writes like an ordinary
pencil but can also write invisibly on special paper, a bizarre
automobile rear-view mirror that allows the driver to observe
not the traffic behind but the occupants of the back seat
instead. Except for audio communications systems, there is
in fact little applicnbility for even the most imaginative tools
in real clandestine operations.

Secret intelligence services in past times were interested
only in recruiting agents who had direct access to vital for-
eign information. Today the CIA and other services also
search for the guard or janitor who is in a position to install
a bug or a phone tap in a sensitive location. Even the
telephone and telegraph companies of other countries have
become targets for the agency. In addition to the foreign and
defense ministries, the CIA operators usually try to pene-
trate the target nation's communications systems — a task
which is on occasion aided by American companies, particu-
larly the International Telephone and Telegraph Company.
Postal services also are subverted for espionage purposes.

Most agency operators receive training in the installation
and servicing of bugs and taps, but the actual planting of
audio surveillance devices is usually carried out by TSD
specialists brought in from headquarters or a regional
operational support center, like ( DELETED ).
The more complex the task, the more likely it is that the
headquarters specialists will be utilized to do the job. On
some operations, however, agents will be specially trained
by TSD experts, or even the responsible case officer, in the
skills of installing such equipment.

Audio operations vary, of course, in complexity and
sensitivity — that is, in risk potential. A classic, highly danger-
ous operation calls for a great deal of planning, during which
the site is surveyed in extensive detail. Building and floor
plans must be acquired or developed from visual surveillance.
The texture of the walls, the colors of interior paints, and
the like must be determined. Activity in the building and in
the room or office where the device is to be installed must
be observed and recorded to ascertain when the area is
accessible. The movements of the occupants and any secu-
rity patrols must be also known. When all this has been
accomplished, the decision is made as to where and when to

Espionage and Counterespionage 163

plant the bug. Usually, the site will be entered at night or on
a weekend and. in accordance with carefully pre-planned
and tightly timed actions, the audio device will be installed.
High-speed, silent drills may be used to cut into the wall,
and after installation of the bug. the damage will be repaired
with quick-drying plaster and covered by a paint exactly
matching the original. The installation may also be accom-
plished from an adjoining room, or one above or below (if a
ceiling or floor placement is called for).

The agency's successes with bugs and taps have usually
been limited to the non-communist countries, where rela-
tively lax internal-security systems do not deny the CIA
operations the freedom of movement necessary to install
eavesdropping devices. A report on clandestine activities in
Latin America during the 1960s by the CIA Inspector General,
for example, revealed that a good part of the intelligence
collected by the agency in that region came from audio
devices. In quite a few of the Latin nations, the report
noted, the CIA was regularly intercepting the telephone
conversations of important ofTicials and had managed to
place bugs in the homes and oflices of many key personnel,
up to and including cabinet minislen. In some allied coun-
tnes the agency shares in the information acquired from
audio surveillance conducted by the host intelligence service,
which often receives technical assistance from the CIA for
this very purpose — and may be penetrated by the CIA in the
process.

Audio devices are fickle. As often as not, they fail to work
after they have been installed, or they function well for a
few days, then suddenly fall silent. Sometimes they are quickly
discovered by the local security services, or, suspecting that
a room may be bugged, the opposition employs effective
countermeasures. The Soviet KGB has the habit of renting
homes and offices in foreign countries and then building new
interior walls, floors, and ceilings covering the original ones
in key rooms — thus completely baffling the effectiveness of
any bugs that may have been installed. The simplest way to
negate audio surveillance — and it is a method universally
employed — is to raise the noise level in the room by con-
stantly playing a radio or a hi-fi set. The music and other
extraneous noises tend to mask the sounds of the voices that
the bug is intended to capture; unlike the human ear, audio
devices cannot distinguish among sounds.

164

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

CIA technicians are constantly working on new listening
devices in the hope of improving the agency's ability to
eavesdrop. Ordinary audio equipment, along with other clan-
destine devices, are developed by the Technical Services
Division. In addition to espionage tools, the TSD devises
gadgets for use in other covert activities, such as paramilitary
operations. Plastic explosives, incapacitating and lethal drugs,
and silent weapons — high-powered crossbows, for example —
are designed and fabricated for special operations. The more
complex or sophisticated instruments used by the CIA's
secret operators are, however, produced by the agency's
Directorate of Science and Technology. This component
also assists other groups within the CIA engaging in clandes-
tine research and development. It aids the Office of Security
in the tatter's effort to improve on the polygraph (lie detector)
machine through research on eye movement and changes in
voice quality under stress, and by the use of drugs. Experi-
ments with drugs for this purpose have been secretly con-
ducted by outside scientists under contract to the CIA, some
apparently connected with universities, on volunteers from a
few federal penitentiaries. The D/S & T, furthermore, assists
the Oflice of Communications in devising new and improved
methods of communications intercept and security counter-
measures.

Although the experts in the Science and Technology Direc-
torate have done much outstanding work in some areas — for
example, overhead reconnaissance — their performance in the
audio field for clandestine application is often less than
satisfactory. One such device long under development was a
laser beam which could be aimed at a closed window from
outside and used to pick up the vibrations of the sound
waves caused by a conversation inside the room. This system
was successfully tested in the field — in West Africa — but it
never seemed to function properly elsewhere, except in the
United States. Another device was . . . Under laboratory
conditions and controlled field experiments, the system per-
formed adequately, but the many imponderables of real opera-
tional situations . . . prevented . . . from ever being used by
the Agency's clandestine operators.

When CIA operators are successful in planting a bug or
making a tap, they send the information thus acquired back
to the Clandestine Services at headquarters in Langley with
the source clearly identified. However, when the Clandes-

Espionage and Counterespionage 165

tine Services, in lurn, pass the information on to the intelli-
gence analysts in the agency and elsewhere in the federal
government, the source is disguised or the information is
buried in a report from a real agent. For example, the
Clandestine Services might credit the information to ''a source
in the foreign ministry who has reported reliably in the past"
or "a Western businessman with wide contacts in the local
government." In the minds of the covert operators, it is
more important to protect the source than to present the
information straightforwardly. TTiis may guarantee "safe"
sources, but it also handicaps the analysts in a confident
judgment of the accuracy of the report's content.*

87 LINES DELETED

The fertile imaginations of the S&T Directorate experts
during the following years produced many more unique col-
lection schemes aimed at solving the mysteries of China's
strategic missile program. Most eventually proved to be
unworkable, and at least one entailed a frighteningly high
risk potential. The silliest of all, however, called for the
creation of a small one-man airplane that could theoretically
be packaged in two large suitcases. In concept, an agent
along with the suitcases would somehow be infiltrated into
the denied area, where, after performing his espionage
mission, he would assemble the aircraft and (ly to safety
over the nearest friendly border. Even the chief of the
Clandestine Services refused to have anything to do with this
scheme, and the project died on the drawing boards.

33 LINES DELETED

The technical difficulties involved in the (DELETED)
system and the (DELETED) device were too great and
too time-consuming for either to be fully developed by their

'This withholding of information within the government for security reasons
is not a new phenomenon in the intelhgencc business. The joint congressional
committee investigating the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor found thai "the
fact the Japanese codes had been broken was regarded as of more importance
than the information obtained from decoded traffic. The result of this rather
specious premise was to leave large numbers of policy-making and enforce-
ment officials in Washington completely oblivious of the most pertinent infor-
mation concerning Japan."

166

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

inventors before improvements in intelligence-satellite sur-
veillance programs were achieved. Other clandestine collec-
tion devices — a few more sensibly contrived, but most of
dubious value — were also developed by the agency's techni-
cians and may now be in operation. The CIA's technical
experts often feel compelled to build exotic systems only
because of the mechanical challenge they pose. Such efforts
might be justified by an intelligence requirement; unfor-
tunately, too many intelligence requirements are not hon-
estly based on the needs of the policy-makers but are instead
generated by and for the CIA and the other intelligence-
community members alone.

The Technical Collection Explosion

While technology has increasingly tended to mechanize clas-
sical espionage, its most important impact on the intelligence
trade has been in large-scale collection — satellites, long-range
sensors, and the interception of communications. These tech-
nical espionage systems have become far and away the most
important sources ot information on America's principal
adversaries. Overhead-reconnaissance programs have provided
much detailed information on Soviet and Chinese missile
programs, troop movements, and other military develop-
ments. They have also produced valuable information re-
garding North Vietnamese infiltration of South Vietnam and
North Korean military preparations against South Korea.
And such collection has frequently contributed to the U.S.
government's knowledge of events in the Middle East.

As technical collection becomes more refined, classical
spies have, of course, become nearly obsolete in clandestine
operations against the more important target countries. So,
too, has the shift to technical espionage caused America's
intelligence costs to skyrocket to more than S6 billion yearly.
Not only are classical spies relatively cheap, but technical
collection systems, producing incredible amounts of infor-
mation, require huge numbers of people to process and
analyze this mass of raw data.

In terms of money spent and personnel involved, the CIA
is very much a junior partner to the Pentagon in the technical-
espionage field. The Defense Department has an overall
intelligence budget of about SS billion a year, some 75 to 80
percent of which is spent on technical collection and

Espionage and Counterespionage 167

processing. The CIA's technical programs, however, amount
to no more than SISO million yearly. (This is exclusive of
several hundred million in funds annually supplied by the
Pentagon for certain community-wide programs, such as sat-
ellite development, in which the agency shares.) Similarly,
there are lens of thousands of people — both military and
civilian — working for the Defense Department in the techni-
cal fields, whereas the CIA only has about 1,500 such
personnel.

Still, the agency has made a substantial contribution to
research and development in technical espionage. Over the
years, CIA scientists have scored major successes by develop-
ing the U-2 and SR-71 spy planes, in perfecting the first
workable photographic-reconnaissance satellites, and in pro-
ducing outstanding advances in stand-off, or long-range, elec-
tronic sensors, such as over-the-horizon radars and stationary
satellites. A good part of these research and operating costs
have been funded by the Pentagon, and in several instances
the programs were ultimately converted into joint CIA-
Pentagon operations or "captured" by the military services.

America's first experience in technical espionage c:ime in the
form of radio intercepts and code-breaking, an art known as
communications intelligence (COM INT). Although Secre-
tary of State Henry Stimson closed down the cryptanalytical
section of the State Department in 1929 with the explanation
that "gentlemen do not read each other's mail," COMINT
was revived, and played an important part in U.S. intelli-
gence activities during World War II. In the immediate
postwar period this activity was initially reduced, then ex-
panded once again as the Cold War intensified. In 1952 the
President, by secret executive order, established the Na-
tional Security Agency (NSA) to intercept and decipher the
communications of both the nation's enemies and friends
and to ensure the U.S. codes were secure from similar
eavesdropping. The NSA, though placed under the control
of the Defense Department, soon established an indepen-
dent bureaucratic identity of its own — and at present has a
huge budget of well over a billion dollars per annum and a
workforce of some 25,000 personnel.

Before the NSA can break into and read foreign codes and
ciphers, it must first intercept the encoded and encrypted
messages of the target country. To make these intercepts, it

168

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

must have listening posts in locations where the signal waves
of the transmitters that send the messages can be acquired.
Radio traffic between foreign capitals and embassies in Wash-
ington can be easily picked off by listening equipment lo-
cated in suburban MaryUnd and Virginia, but communications
elsewhere in the world are not so easily intercepted. Thus,
the NSA supports hundreds of listening posts around the
globe, such posts usually being operated by other U.S. gov-
ernment agencies. Most commonly used to run the NSA's
overseas facilities are the armed services' cryptological
agencies: the Army Security Agency, the Navy Security
Service, and the Air Force Security Agency. These three
military organizations come under the NSA's policy coordi-
nation; the messages they intercept are sent back to NSA
headquarters at Fort Meade, Maryland, near Washington.

Perhaps the most controversial NSA base (operated by the
Army) is at Kagnew in Ethiopia. A Senate subcommittee
investigating American commitments abroad, chaired by Stuart
Symington, revealed in 1970 that this heretofore secret facil-
ity had been secured from the Haile Selassie regime in
return for hundreds of millions of dollars in military and
economic assistance — without most members of Congress
ever being aware of its existence. The Symington subcommit-
tee also discovered a similar NSA facility (operated by the
Navy) at (DELETED) in (DELETED) which also has been
kept secret from Congress. Both these bases have been used
to intercept communications from the Middle East and Africa,
and both required the U.S. government to offer an implicit —
but secret — commitment to the host government.

IS LINES DELETED

Although the NSA engineered some successes against the
Eastern European countries and Communist China in its
early days, for at least the last fifteen years it has been
completely unable to break into the high-grade cipher sys-
tems and codes of these nations. Against such major targets,
the NSA has been reduced to reading comparatively unim-
portant communications between low-level military components
and the equally inconsequential routine exchanges between
low-grade bureaucrats and economic planners. This is far
short of learning the Soviet Union's or China's most vital
secrets.

Espionage and Counterespionage 169

7>/i LINES DELETED

. . .*One such benefit is derived from traffic analysis, the
technique by which the NSA gleans some useful information
through the study of communication patterns. A principal
assistant of the NSA Director observed at the same meeting
that another justification for the agency's continuing pro-
grams against the Soviets and Chinese is the hope that
"maybe we'll get a break sometime, like the Pueblo." He
was, of course, referring to the capture in 1968 of the NSA
spy ship by North Korea. Much of the Pueblo's cryptological
machinery was seized intact by the North Koreans and proba-
bly turned over to the Soviets. While these machines were
not associated with the highest-grade U.S. military or diplo-
matic systems, the Soviets would have been able to use them
to read messages previously sent through certain American
military channels and intercepted and stored by the Soviets.
The NSA has for many years been recording and storing
not-yet "broken" Soviet and Chinese messages, and can
presume the same has been done with American communi-
cations; for our part, there are literally boxcars and ware-
houses full of incomprehensible tapes of this sort at NSA's
Fort Meade headquarters.

As with so many other parts of the American intelligence
apparatus, the NSA has had considerably more success oper-
ating against the Third World countries and even against
some of our allies. With what is reportedly the largest bank
of computers in the world and thousands of cryptanalysts, the
NSA has had little trouble with the codes and ciphers of
these nations. Two of the highly secret agency's young officers,

'David Kahn, author of the definitive woric on modern cryptology. The Code
Breakers, explained in the June 22, 1973, New York Times why NSA has had
and will continue to have so little luck with reading advanced communications
systems like the Soviets': "Cryptology has advanced, in the last decade or so,
to systems that, though not unbreakable in the absolute, are unbreakable in
practice. They consist essentially of mathematical programs for computer-like
cipher machines. They engender so many possibilities that, even given tor-
rents of intercepts, and scores of computers to batter them with, cryptanalysts
could not reach a solution for thousands of years. Moreover, the formulas are
so constructed that even if the cryptanalyst has the ideal situation — the original
plain text of one of the foreign cryptograms — he cannot recreate the formula
by comparing the two and then use it to crack the next message that comes
along."

170

The CIA and ihe Cull of Intelligence

William Manin and Bernon Mitchell, who defected to the
Soviei Union in 1960, mentioned thirty to forty nations whose
systems the NSA could read. In addition, Martin and Mitch-
ell told of a practice under which the NSA provided encod -
ing and cryptographic machines to otTier nations, then used
ff s T n owl edgg'oi lTlK rnachiri'er~tb r'e~d t h e Tnt e'r'c' epB! U 'I H<!'s -

szgt^ orrrese7cu?riTrre< rTmrTfrjPtTgg miT'T^i'TOffg jr'""

One oftTie counlrTes thai Martin and Mitchell specifically
named as being read hy the NSA at that time w;is Egypt —
the United Arab Republic. After making their revelation at
a Moscow press conference,

18 LINES DELETED

The Soviets probably were, too.

HVi LINES DELETED

A "break," in the terminology of the cryptanalyst, is a
success scored not through deciphering skill, but because of
an error on the part of another country's communications
clerks or, on rare occasions, a failure in the cipher equipment.
A few years ago. a new code clerk arrived at a foreign
embassy in Washington and promptly sent a message "in the
clear" (i.e., unenciphered), to his Foreign Ministry. Realiz-
ing that he should have encrypted the transmission, he sent
the same message again, but this time in cipher. With the
"before and after" messages in hand, the NSA had little
difficulty thereafter, of course, reading that country's secret
communications. Malfunctioning or worn-out cryptographic
equipment results in triumphs for the NSA by unintention-
ally establishing repetitious patterns which detract from the
random selections that are vital to sophisticated ciphers. A
rough analogy would be a roulette wheel which, because of
poor construction or excessive wear, develops certain predict-
able characteristics discernible to a keen observer who is '
then able to take advantage because of his special knowledge. I

Another type of break comes as a result of a physical |
(rather than cerebral) attack on another country's communi- i
cations system. The attack may be a clandestine operation to 1
steal a code book or cipher system, the suborning of a I
communications clerk, or the planting of an audio device in I
an embassy radio room. Within the CIA's Clandestine 1

Espionage and Counterespionage 171

Services, a special unit of the Foreign Intelligence (i.e.,
espionage) Staff specializes in these attacks.* When it is
successful, the information it acquires is sent to the NSA to
help that agency with its COMINT efforts.

In 1970, NSA Director Admiral Noel Gayler and his top
deputies admitted privately that a good part of the NSA's
successes came from breaks, and they emphasized that the
agency was extremely adept at exploiting these non-crypt-
analytical windfalls. Nevertheless, breaks are never men-
tioned in the authorized U.S. government "leaks" concerning
the NSA's activities that from time to time appear in the
press. In its controlled revelations to the public, the NSA
deliberately tries to create the impression that it is incredibly
good at the art of deciphering secret foreign communications
and that its triumphs are based purely on its technical skills.

23 LINES DELETED

A side effect of the NSA's programs to intercept diplomatic
and commercial messages is that rather frequently certain
information is acquired about American citizens, including
members of Congress and other federal officials, which can
be highly embarrassing to those individuals. This type of
intercepted message is handled with even greater care than
the NSA's normal product, which itself is so highly classified
that a special security clearance is needed to see it. Such
information may, for example, derive from a Senator's con-
versation with a foreign ambassador in Washington who
then cables a report of the talk to his Foreign Ministry.
A more serious embarrassment happened in 1970 during

*This approach apparently appealed to President Nixon when he approved
the 1970 Huston plan for domestic espionage which surfaced during the
Watergate scandal. The plan called for breaking into foreign embassies in
Washington because it would be "possible by this technique to secure the
material with which the NSA can crack foreign cryptographic codes. We spend
millions of dollars attempting to break these codes by machines. One surrepti-
tious entry can do the job successfully at no dollar cost." While the Huston
plan might have been effective against Third World countries with unsophisti-
cated cryptological systems, it was unlikely to score any significant gains
against major powers — even if there had been any successful break-ins. David
Kahn explains why: "Code-books could be photographed, |because| today's
cipher secrets reside in electronic circuits, same of them integrated on a
pinhead. some of them embodied in printed-circuit boards with up lo fifteen
layers."

172

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

the course of delicate peace talks on the Middle East. A
State Department official had a conversation about the nego-
tiations with an Arab diplomat who promptly reported what
he had been told to his government. His cable disclosed that
the State Department man had either grossly misstated the
American bargaining poslllon or the diplomat had badly
misunderstood what had been told him. In any case, high
State Department officers were quite disturbed about the
misrepresented position and the incident did not reflect well
on the competence of the American official in the eyes of his
superiors.

Not even the CIA is immune to such prying by the NSA.
On one occasion the Director of Central Intelligence was
supplied with an intercepted message concerning his deputy.
According to this message, a transmission from a Western
European ambassador to his Foreign Office, the CIA's
number-two man had a few evenings earlier at a dinner
party hosted by the ambassador indiscreetly opined on sev-
eral sensitive LI.S. policy positions. The ambassador's inter-
pretation of the con>'ersation was contradicted by the Deputy
Director — to the apparent satisfaction of the DCI — and the
matter was quietly dropped.

Some NSA-intercepted communications can cause surpris-
ing problems within the U.S. government if they are inadver-
tently distributed to the wrong parties. When particularly
sensitive foreign-policy negotiations are under way which
may be compromised internally by too much bureaucratic
awareness, the White House's usual policy has been to issue
special instructions to the NSA to distribute messages men-
tioning these negotiations only to Henry Kissinger and his
immediate staff.

The FBI operates a wiretap program against numerous for-
eign embassies in Washington which, like some of the NSA
intercept operations, also provides information about Ameri-
cans, in cooperation with the Chesapeake and Potomac
Telephone Company (a Bell subsidiary), FBI agents regu-
larly monitor the phones in the offices of all communist
governments represented here; on occasion, the embassies
of various non-communist countries have their phones tapped,
especially when their nations are engaged in negotiations
with the U.S. government or when important developments
are taking place in these countries.

Espionage and Counterespionage 173

nVi LINES DELETED

Wiretaps on foreign embassies, justified on the grounds of
preserving national security, must be approved by the State
Department before they are installed by the FBI. As it is
often State which requests the FBI to activate the listening
devices, approval is almost always given. The transcripts of
such conversations are never marked as having come from
wiretaps, but instead carry the description "from a source
who has reported reliably in the past." Such reliable "sources"
include State Department officials themselves — the CIA has,
on occasion, intercepted communications between American
ambassadorial officials and their colleagues in Washington.

In the way of background, il should be understood that
CIA communications clerks handle nearly all classified ca-
bles between American embassies and Washington — for both
the CIA and the Stnte Department. To have a separate code
room for each agency in every embassy would be a wasteful
procedure, so a senior CIA communications expert is regu-
larly assigned to the administrative part oi the State Depart-
ment in order to oversee the CIA's communicators who
work under State cover. In theory, CIA clerks are not sup-
posed to read the messages they process for State, but any
code clerk who wants to have a successful career quickly
realizes that his promotions depend on the CIA and that he
is well advised to show the CIA station chief copies of all
important State messages. The State Department long ago
implicitly recognized that its most secret cables are not se-
cure from CIA inspection by setting up special communica-
tions channels which supposedly cannot be deciphered by
the CIA.

When in 1968 Ambassador to Iran Armin Meyer ran into
troubles with the CIA station chief in Teheran, Meyer
switched his communications with State in Washington to
one of these "secure" channels, called "Roger." But the
CIA had nonetheless figured out a way to intercept his
cables and the replies he received from Washington; the
CIA Director thus received a copy of each intercepted
cable. Written on lop of each cable was a warning that
the contents of the cable should be kept especially con-
fidential because State was unaware that the CIA had
a copy.

174

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Satellites and Other Systems

The most important source of technical intelligence gathered
by the U.S. is that collected by photographic and electronic
reconnaissance satellites. Most are launched into north-south
orbits designed to carry them over such targets as the U.S.S.R.
and China with maximum frequency as they circle around
the earth. Others are put into orbits synchronized with the
rotation of the globe, giving the illusion that they are
stationary. Ail satellite programs come under the opera-
tional authority of the National Reconnaismnce Office (NRO),
a component of the Secretary of the Air Force's office. The
NRO spends well over a billion dollars every year for satel-
lites and other reconnaissance systems. While the Defense
Department provides all the money, policy decisions on how
the funds will be allocated are made by the Executive Com-
mittee for Reconnaissance, consisting of the Assistant Secre-
tary of Defense for Intelligence, the Director of Central
Intelligence, and the Assistant to the President for National
Security Affairs. Requirements for satellite collection are
developed by the U.S. Intelligence Board (USIB), which is
chaired by the Director of Central Intelligence and whose
members are the heads of all other intelligence agencies.
A special committee of the USIB designates the specific
targets each satellite will cover.

Employing high-resolution and wide-angle cameras, the
photographic satellites have for years provided voluminou'
and detailed information on Soviet and Chinese military
developments and other matters of strategic importance;
conversely, except for special cases such as the Arab-Israeli
situation, there has been little reason to apply satellite recon-
naissance against other, less powerful countries.

Some photographic satellites are equipped with color cam-
eras for special missions, and some even carry infrared sens-
ing devices which measure heat emissions from ground targets,
to determine, for example, if a site b occupied or what the level
of activity is at certain locations. There are satellites that have
television cameras to speed up the delivery of their product
to the photo interpreters who analyie, or read out, the film
packages of the spies in the sky. But, good as they are, photo
graphic satellites have inherent limitations. They cannot see
through clouds, nor can they see into buildings or inside objects.

Espionage and Counterespionage 175

In addition to photographic satellites, U.S. intelligence
possesses a wide array of other reconnaissance satellites which
perform numerous electronic sensing tasks. These satellites
collect data on missile testing, on radars and the emissions of
other high-power electronic equipment, and on communica-
tions traffic. Electronic satellites are in some cases supported
by elaborate ground stations, both in friendly foreign coun-
tries and in the United States, that feed targeting directions
to the sensors, receive the collected data from the satellites,
and transmit the processed data to the intelligence agencies
in Washington. (The electronic satellite systems to a large
extent carry out the same collection functions performed by
the many listening posts of the CIA and NSA which ring the
U.S.S.R. and China. And they collect much of the same data
as that gathered by the NSA 's spy ships and the Air Force's
flying listening posts.

The JRC, Joint Reconnaissance Committee, an inter-agency
group controlled largely by the military through the Joint
Chiefs of Staff, maintains overall responsibility for the techni-
cal collection projects carried out by planes and ships.

Until satellites became operational in the early 1960s, spy
planes and ships were valuable sources of information, serv-
ing as supplements to the product of the NSA, then the best
material available to U.S. intelligence. Air Force and CIA
aircraft frequently flew along the perimeters of the commu-
nist countries and even over their territory in search of badly
needed electronic and photographic information. Spy ships
operated by the Navy — like the Pueblo — sailed along the
coasts listening in on communications and other electronic
signals. Although these programs were considered to be
great successes by the intelligence community, occasional
blunders such as the 19S9 U-2 affair and the Tonkin Gulf
incident in 1964 (the two U.S. destroyers "torpedoed" by
North Vietnamese boats were on a clandestine spy mission)
had a serious and detrimental effect on world politics. Ag-
gressive technical Intelligence-collection efforts have also led
to the capture of the Pueblo, the Israeli attack on the Liberty
in 1967, and shoot-downs of RB-47s by the Soviets and of
EC-121S and several U-2s by the Chinese.

Despite the risks incurred by such provocative collection
actions in the name of intelligence, the Pentagon continues
to sponsor these now obsolete programs. Satellites and long-
range stand-off (i.e., non-penetrating) systems have deeply

176

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

reduced, if not eliminated, the need for spy flights and
cruises. But the armed services have spent billions of dollars
to develop the spy planes and ships (just as the CIA and the
NSA have invested in outmoded listening posts ringing the
U.S.S.R. and China); consequently, there has been a stub-
born bureaucratic reluctance to take these collectors out of
service. The "drone" — pilotless aircraft — flights over China,
for example, were continued even after the Chinese started
shooting them down on a regular and embarrassing basis,
and after they had proven nearly useless. State Department
reconnaissance intelligence experts insisted that the Air Force
maintained the drone activity, even though the information
thus gathered was of marginal value, because it had nowhere
else to use such spy equipment. Similarly, Air Force SR-71s
have continued to fly over North Korea despite that country's
lack of meaningful intelligence targets. With the Soviet Union
declared off bounds for secret overflights since 1960, and
China since 1971, the Air Force can devise no other way of
justifying the operational need for these aircraft.

20 LINES DELETED

Clearly, the prevailing theology in the U.S. intelligence
community calls for the collection of as much information as
possible. Little careful consideration is given to the utility of
the huge amounts of material so acquired. The attitude of
"collection for collection's sake" has resulted in mountains
of information which can only overwhelm intelligence ana-
lysts charged with interpreting it. Further, such material
contributes little to the national requirements, though it may
prove interesting to certain highly specialized analysts, partic-
ularly in the Pentagon. There has been little coordination
between the managers of the various technical espionage
programs, and even less between the collectors and the
policy-makers. Each of the many agencies which carry out
such programs has a vested bureaucratic interest in keeping
its particular system in being, and the extreme compartmen-
talization of the operations has made it almost impossible for
the programs to be evaluated as a whole. Former CIA
Director Helms failed almost completely in his assigned mis-
sion of bringing a more rational and coordinated approach
to the myriad technical espionage systems. It is not likely

Espionage and Counterespionage 177

that his successors will do much better. No CIA Director has
ever been able to manage the intelligence community.

Despite the roughly SS billion already being spent each
year on technical systems and on processing the great amounts
of data collected, there remains significant pressure within
the intelligence community to collect still more information.
The Pentagon has for several years been pushing for . . .)
This system is technologically feasible if the United States is
willing to invest . . . for the equipment . . . While the Con-
gress is permitted to pass on weapons systems of this magnitude,
. . . will probably never be voted on by our nation 's legisla-
tors because of the secrecy insisted upon by the intelligence
community. This secrecy is unquestionably needed to protect
the actual workings of the system, but then the operation of
the ABM was no less classified, and the national security did
not seem to be injured by the ABM debate in Congress. How-
ever, the very word "intelligence" seems to make our legis-
lators bow and genuflect. They have in the past bestowed
virtual blank checks on the various intelligence agencies,
allowing these organizations to do practically anything they
desired. The Soviets have a fairly clear idea of the functions
performed by American satellites and other collection systems;
there would seem to be little practical reason why the Congress
and the American people must be kept completely in the dark.

Furthermore, technical espionage of any kind has a limited
value. It can identify and measure missile development and
troop movements, but it cannot tell what foreign leaders are
planning to do with those missiles and troops. In 1968 the U.S.
intelligence community had a relatively clear picture of the
Soviet preparations for military action against Czechoslovakia;
it had no means whatever of knowing whether or not an actual
attack would be made. That kind of information could have
been provided only by a human spy inside the Kremlin, and
the CIA had none of those, and small prospect for recruiting
any. The United States knew what could happen, but intel-
ligence consumers have an insatiable appetite for knowledge
of what will happen. Their clamoring makes for more and
bigger collection systems to attempt to satisfy their demands.

Coun lerespionage

Counterespionage, the clandestine warfare waged between
rival intelligence agencies, is usually referred to more deli-

178

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

cately in the spy business as counterintelligence. Essentially
it consists of preventing the opposition from penetrating your
own secret service while at the same time working to pene-
trate the opposition's — to learn what he is planning against
you. As practiced by the CIA and the Soviet KGB. counter-
espionage is a highly complex and devious activity. It de-
pends on cunning entrapments. agents provocateurs, spies
and counterspies, double and triple crosses. It is the stuff
that spy novels are made of, with limitless possibilities for
deception and turns of plot.

While foreign intelligence organizations with longer histories
have traditionally emphasized counterespionage, U.S. intelli-
gence was slow to develop such a capability. To Americans
during World War II and immediately thereafter, counteres-
pionage meant little more than defensive security measures
such as electrified fences, watchdogs, and codes. The ob-
scure subtleties and intricate conspiracies of counterespio-
nage seemed alien to the American character and more
suited to European back alleys and the Orient Express. But
the demands of the Cold War and the successes scored by
the KGB in infiltrating Western intelligence services grad-
ually drew the CIA deeply into the counterespionage game.

Primary responsibility for U.S. internal security rests with
the FBI, but inevitably there has been friction between the
agency and the bureau in their often overlapping attempts to
protect the nation against foreign spies. In theory, the CIA
cooperates with the FBI in counterespionage cases by han-
dling the overseas aspects and letting the bureau take care of
all the action within the United States. In actual fact, the
agency tends to keep within its own control, even domestically,
those operations which are designed to penetrate opposition
intelligence services; the basically defensive task of prevent-
ing the Soviets from recruiting American agents in the United
States is left to the FBI. While the FBI also on occasion goes
on the offensive by trying to recruit foreign intelligence
agents, the bureau's first inclination seems to be to arrest or
deport foreign spies rather than to turn them, as the CIA
tries to do, into double agents. This fundamental difference
in approach limits the degree of FBI-CIA cooperation in
counterespionage and confirms the general view within the
agency that FBI agents are rather unimaginative police-officer
types, and thus incapable of mastering the intricacies of
counterespionage work. (The FBI, on the other hand, tends

Espionage and Counterespionage 179

to see CIA counterintelligence operators as dilettantes who
are too clever for their own good.) Although the CIA has
had almost no success in penetrating the Soviet and other
opposition services, it nonetheless continues to press for
additional operational opportunities in the United States,
claiming that the FBI is not sophisticated enough to cope
with the KGB.

Within the CIA, the routine functions of security — physical
protection of buildings, background investigations of person-
nel, lie-detector tests — are assigned to the Office of Security,
a component of the housekeeping part of the agency, the
M&S Directorate. Counterespionage policy and some actual
operations emanate from the Counterintelligence (CI) Staff
of the Clandestine Services. As with the bulk of espionage
activities, however, most operations are carried out by the
area divisions (Far East, Western Hemisphere, etc.). which
are also responsible. The area divisions tend to see espio-
nage value or information-gathering value in counterespio-
nage operations, which are referred to in CIA files as joint
FI/CI projects — FI (Foreign Intelligence) being the Clandes-
tine Services' euphemism for espionage.

Almost every CIA station or base overseas has one or
more officers assigned to it for counterespionage purposes.
The first priority for these counterspy specialists is to moni-
tor agency espionage and covert-action operations to make
sure that the opposition has not penetrated or in some other
way compromised the activity. All reports submitted by CIA
case officers and their foreign agents are carefully studied
for any indication of enemy involvement. The counterintelli-
gence men know all too well that agents, wittingly or
unwittingly, can be used by the KGB as deceptions to feed
false information to the CIA, or employed as provocations
to disrupt carefully laid operational plans. Foreign agents
can also be penetrations, or double agents, whose task it is to
spy on the CIA's secret activities. When a double agent is
discovered in an operation, consideration is given to "turning"
him — that is, making him a triple agent. Or perhaps he can
be unwittingly used to deceive or provoke the opposition.

If a KGB officer tries to recruit a CIA staff employee, the
counterespionage experts may work out a plan to entrap the
enemy operator, then publicly expose him or attempt to
"turn" him. Or they may encourage the agency employee to
pretend to cooperate with the Soviets in order to learn more

180

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

about what kind of information the KGB wants to collect, to
discover more about KGB methods and equipment, or merely
to occupy the time and money of the KGB on a fruitless
project. The CIA counterespionage specialists do not neces-
sarily wait for the KGB to make a recruitment effort, but
instead may set up an elaborate trap, dangling one of their
own as bait for the opposition.

Further, beyond safeguarding the CIA's own covert
operations, counterespionage officers actively try to pene-
trate the opposition services. Seeking to recruit agents in
communist and other intelligence services, they hope both to
find out what secret actions the opposition is planning to
take against the CIA, and to thwart or deflect those initiatives.

Counterespionage, like covert action, has become a career
speciality in the CIA; some clandestine operators do no
other type of work during their years with the agency. These
specialists have developed their own clannish subculture
within the Clandestine Services, and even other CIA opera-
tors often find them excessively secretive and deceptive. The
function o f t he t:o unle:n:s£io^nane off icers is to questitin and
verity ever^ asp ect u?XTA q peralKHis; la l(?ng ntilhine at fac e
value, they ten'J^ se e dcc cn ever v wRer I n an agency full
of exireme1y~mis't?ijsl'fu [ people, "i ti ey are the" profe ssional

"MMytxperienced CIA operators believe that counterespio-
nage operations directed against opposition services receive
a disproportionate amount of attention and resources within
the Clandestine Services, for even if a spy were recruited in
the KGB (which almost never happens), he would likely be
of less intelligence value than a penetration at a similar level
elsewhere in the Soviet government or Communist Party. To
be sure, the spy could probably provide the CIA with some
information on foreign agents working for the KGB, per-
haps the type of intelligence re eived from them and other

"ll is commonly thought within the CIA that the Counterintelligence Staff
operates on the assumption that the agency — as well as other elements of the
U.S. government — is penetrated by the KGB. The chief of the CI Staff is said
10 keep a list of the fifty or so key positions in the CIA which are most likely
10 have been infillraled by the opposition, and he reportedly keeps the
penons in those positions under constant surveillance. Some CIA officers
speculate — and a few firmly believe — that the only way to explain the poor
performance in recruiting Soviet agents — and conducting classical intelligence
operations in general against the U.S.S.R- — is that KGB penetrations inside
the agency have been for years sending back advance warnings.

Espionage and Counterespionage 181

foreign sources, and maybe a few insights into KGB opera-
tions against the United States and other countries. But he
would know little about the intentions of the Soviet leader-
ship or Moscow's military and nuclear secrets — the most
crucial information of all to those officials responsible for
looking after the national security of the United States. The
KGB officer, like most clandestine operators, is usually bet-
ter versed on developments in foreign countries than those
in his own nation. Although it is interesting to know what
the KGB operators know and how they acquired their
knowledge, that in itself is of little significance in achieving
U.S. intelligence goals. The justification for the counterintelli-
gence effort, although usually couched in intricate, sophisti-
cated argument, amounts to little more than "operations for
operations' sake." Admittedly, there can occasionally be a
positive intelligence windfall from a counterespionage opera-
tion; an agent recruited in a foreign service may have access
to information on his own government's secret policies and
plans. Penkovsky, who was in Soviet military intelligence
(GRU), provided his British and American case officers
with reams of documents concerning the Soviet armed forces
and their advanced weapons-development programs, in addi-
tion to clandestine operational information and doctrine.
Agents working for other foreign services have from time to
time made similar, although less valuable, contributions. But
the CIA's preoccupation with this type of clandestine
operation, often to the exclusion of a search for more impor-
tant secrets, is at least questionable.

Within the Clandestine Services, the Soviet Bloc (SB)
Division, quite obviously, is the most counterespionage-
oriented of all the area tjivisions. The rationale generally
given for this emphasis is that it is nearly impossible to
recruit even the lowest-level spy in the U.S.S.R. because of
the extremely tight internal-security controls in force there.
Among the few Soviets who can, however, move about
freely despite these restrictions are KGB and other intelli-
gence officers. They are, furthermore, part of that small
group of Soviet officials who regularly come in contact with
Westerners (often searching for their own recruits). And they
are among those officials most likely to travel outside the
Soviet Union, where recruitment approaches by CIA opera-
tors (or induced defections) can more easily be arranged.

182

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Being the most accessible and least supervised of all Soviet
citizens, KGB officers are, therefore, potentially the most
recruitable.

Outside the Soviet Union, according to the SB Division's
rationale, recruitment of non-KGB agents is almost as diffi-
cult as in the U.S. S R. Most other Soviets, including the
highest officials, are usually under KGB surveillance; they
travel or live in groups, or are otherwise unreachable by the
agency's clandestine operators. Once again, it is only the
opposition intelligence officer who has the freedom of move-
ment which allows for secret contact with foreigners. The
division's efforts are therefore concentrated on seeking out
potential agents among the KGB.

There is much truth in the Soviet Bloc Division's view of
this operational problem, but the fact that the agency's oper-
ators have recruited no high-level Soviet spies and induced
almost no significant defections from the U.S.S.R. in well
over a decade raises serious questions concerning the CIA's
competence as a clandestine intelligence organization. In
fact, since the early 1960s there have been practically no CIA
attempts to recruit a Soviet agent, and only a handful of
defection inducements: Oleg Penkovsky, it must be remem-
bered, was turned away when he first tried to defect.

To be sure, there is reason for extreme care. Most Soviet
defectors who bolt to the West are greeted by the agency
with great caution because they may be KGB deceptions or
provocations. The clandestine operators are so unsure of
their ability to evaluate the intentions and establish the
legitimacy of most defectors that the CIA has set up an
inter-agency committee within the U.S. intelligence commu-
nity to review all defector cases. This bureaucratic layering
not only works to reduce the number of defectors accepted
by the U.S. government (perhaps wisely), but also serves to
spread the blame if mistakes are made.

Despite the CIA's extreme caution, however, a few
defectors, some of them KGB undercover officers, have
managed to accomplish their goal of escaping and establishing,
as it is known in the clandestine trade, their bona fides, in
spite of the agency's doubts. Svetlana Stalin succeeded sim-
ply because the CIA officers on the scene in India, with the
encouragement of Ambassador Chester Bowles, refused to
be held back by the SB Division's bureaucratic precautions.

Espionage and Counterespionage 183

It has been well established that the CIA cannot spy. in the
classical sense, against its major target, the Soviet Union.
Nor does the CIA seem to be able to conduct effective
counterespionage (in the offensive aspect) against the Soviets.
It even has difficulty dealing with the gratuitous opportuni-
ties presented by walk-ins and defectors. Much of this obvi-
ously can be attributed to the inherent difficulties involved
in operating in a closed society like the U'.S.S.R.'s, and
against a powerful, unrelenting opposition organization like
the KGB; and some of the lack of success can, too, be ex-
plained by the CIA's incompetence. But there is more to the
failure against the Soviet target than insurmountable security
problems or ineptitude. The CIA's Clandestine Services are,
to a large extent, fearful of and even intimidated by the
Soviet KGB because they ha,ve so frequently been outma-
neuvered by it.

Most Soviet spying successes against the major Western
powers have involved penetrations of their intelligence
services. The KGB, with its origins in the highly conspirato-
rial czarist secret police, has often appeared to professional
observers to be more adept at penetrating foreign intelli-
gence organizations than in recruiting ordinary spies.

Most notorious among the KGB's infiltrations of Western
intelligence (at least those that have been discovered) was
Harold "Kim" Philby, who spied for Moscow for over twenty
years while a very high-ranking official of Britain's MI-6.*
There have been several other highly damaging KGB pene-
trations of British intelligence, French and German intel-
ligence, and the services of most of the smaller N.A.T.O.
countries. And KGB agents have been uncovered on several
occasions in U.S. intelligence agencies, including the Na-
tional Security Agency, several of the military security
agencies, and the intelligence section of the Joint Chiefs of
Staff.

But as far as is publicly known, no career officer of the
CIA has ever been proved to be an enemy spy. There have
been some odd dismissals of clandestine officers from time
to time for reasons that have smacked of more than mere

*ln his memoirs (unquestionably full of KGB disinformation) Philby ex-
pressed little professional respect for the CIA's talents in counterespionage.
But he did admit that it was an agency officer (ironically, an ex-FBI agent)
who ultimately saw through his masquerade and was responsible for exposing
him to British authorities.

184

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

incompetence or corruption, but none of these has ever
officially been designated as a penetration. On the other
hand, foreign agents recruited by the agency have sometimes
been found to be working for an opposition service. When-
ever such a penetration is discovered in a CIA operation,
the agency's counterespionage specialists compile a damage
report assessing how much information has been revealed to
the subject and the possible repercussions of such disclosures
on other CIA activities. Similarly, agency counterespionage
officers participate in the preparation of damage reports
when a penetration is exposed elsewhere in the U.S. intelli-
gence community.

One such report was prepared in cooperation with the
Defense Department in 1966 when Lieutenant Colonel W. H.
Whalen, a U.S. Army intelligence officer working for the
Joint Chiefs of Staff, was arrested as a KGB spy. The
investigation disclosed that Whulen had had access to almost
all the U.S. national intelligence estimates of Soviet strategic
military capabilities during the "missile gap" controversy
several years earlier. Evidently, he had delivered copies of
these top-secret documents to his KGB employers.

However, the results of Whalen's actions were, upon
examination, as surprising as they were discouraging to U.S.
intelligence. A principal reason why CIA and Pentagon ana-
lysts believed there was a missile gap during the late 1950s
and early 1960s was the numerous references in speeches
made at the time by Khrushchev and other Soviet leaders
alluding to the development and deployment of Soviet long-
range nuclear missiles. These announcements, carefully timed
to correspond to the progressive phases of intercontinental
ballistic missile research, testing, production, and opera-
tional introduction to the armed forces, were studied in
great detail by the Kremlin-watchers of the U.S. intelligence
community. Learning from American scientists working on
U.S. missile programs what was technically feasible in the
field of ICBM development, and having already witnessed
the startling demonstration of Soviet space technology dem-
onstrated in the launching of Sputnik, the intelligence ana-
lysts assumed the worst — that the Soviets were well ahead of
the United States in the missile race. The analysts noted in
their estimates that the statements of the Soviet leaders were
a significant factor in making this judgment.

Neither the U-2 reconnaissance flights nor the first mis-

Espionage and Counterespionage 185

sions of American photographic satellites confirmed the fears
of the analysts, but the U.S. government took no chances,
and pressed fervently ahead with its own strategic strike
programs, especially the Minuteman ICBM and the Polaris
submarine. By 1963 it was abundantly evident that the only
"missile gap" which existed was in America's favor, created
by the rapid deployment of U.S. systems. Khrushchev and
his colleagues had deliberately attempted to mislead by clev-
erly implying a nuclear attack capability which the Soviet
Union did not possess; apparently, they were somewhat
encouraged by those U.S. intelligence estimates secretly pro-
vided by Colonel Whalen which showed how worried U.S.
officials were by the Soviet bluff. But even though deception
was at first successful, in that U.S. officials believed the
Soviet claims, it ultimately backfired as the United States
chose to accelerate its own missile-development programs,
thereby placing the Soviet Union in a position of still greater
strategic disadvantage than before.

Perhaps an even greater -service which Colonel Whalen
unintentionally performed for his country while spying for
the KGB came during the Berlin Crisis of 1961. At that time,
in addition to building the wall to separate the east and west
portions of the city, the East Germans attempted, with obvi-
ous Soviet support, to reduce access to Berlin from West
Germany. The U.S. intelligence estimate was that the com-
munists were toughening and unlikely to back down. This
gloomy but influential estimate was passed to the KGB by
Colonel Whalen, probably along with other information that
the United States would stand absolutely firm. When the
Soviets suddenly and unexpectedly eased their position, both
the White House and the intelligence community, although
pleased, were confused by Moscow's turnabout. Only years
later, during the preparation of the Whalen damage report,
did the analyst get a better idea why their original estimates
of Soviet behavior had proved to be wrong in 1961. With the
benefit of hindsight, the analysts reasoned: The Soviet lead-
ers had decided to ease their stand when they realized the
U.S. government would not back down, despite the estimate
of Soviet intransigence. Apparently afraid they might be
on the verge of provoking a major military conflict, the
Soviets abruptly softened their demands.

The unexpected benefits to the U.S. government stem-
ming from the Whalen penetration, while clearly fortuitous.

186

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

are not unique in clandestine operations. In 1964 it was learned
that the American embassy in Moscow had been thoroughly
bugged by the KGB. Scores of Soviet audio devices were
found throughout the building. Counterespionage and secu-
rity specialists determined that the equipment had been in-
stalled in 19S2 when the embassy had been renovated, and
that the bugs had been operational for roughly twelve years.
The damage report asserted that during this entire period — at
the height of the Cold War — Soviet intelligence had proba-
bly intercepted every diplomatic cable between Washington
and the embassy. TMs assessment was based on the discovery
cf electronic listening devices in the code room which allowed
the Soviets to hear distinctly the sounds being made by the
typewriters and cryptographic equipment. It was a reasonably
easy technological feat — well within Soviet capabilities — to
translate such sounds into their true alphabetical meaning.

U.S. suspicions about the Soviet eavesdropping were ap-
parently aroused early in 1964 when Nikita Khrushchev made
a remark to Ambassador Foy Kohler about Kohler's role in
blocking the shipment to the Soviet Union of steel for an
important pipeline. Taken in context, Khrushchev's remark
indicated to Kohler that there was a leak somewhere in
American security. Kohler started a massive investigation,
and, within a month or two, found forty-odd bugs embedded
in walls throughout the embassy. Although Kohler would
later claim there was no connection between the discovery of
the bugs and the investigation he ordered after his conversa-
tion with Khrushchev, the timing would seem to indicate
otherwise.

. . . In any case, the official damage report concluded that
for those twelve crucial years at the height of the Cold War,
. . . The damage report noted, however, that this Soviet knowl-
edge may well have worked to the advantage of the United
States . . .

Today the likelihood of the KGB eavesdropping on the
activities in an embassy code room is extremely remote. Most
State Department communications overseas are handled by
the CIA. The machines and other equipment are cushioned
and covered to mute the sounds emanating from them. The
rooms themselves are encased in lead and rest on huge
sprinni that further reduce the internal noises. Resembling
large camping trailers, the code rooms now are normally
located deep in the concrete basements of embassy buildings.

Espionage and Counterespionage 187

Access to them by sound-sensitive devices is, for all practical
purposes, impossible.

The CIA's counterespionage operators not only try to re-
cruit secret agents in opposition services like the KGB; they
also work against the so-called friendly or allied services. Off
bounds for the most part — in principle, at least — are the
intelligence agencies of the English-speaking countries, among
which there is a kind of unwritten agreement not to spy on
each other.

. . . The Agency's closest ally is British intelligence. ...(...
The CIA exchanges such a large volume of information with
British intelligence that the analytical part of the Agency, the
Directorate for Intelligence, always has several officers sta-
tioned in England for the sole purpose of facilitating the
liaison. . . .)

Attempts are made by the Intelligence Directorate to re-
$tri<:t the dissemination of highly clas.sificd analysis to foreign
services, but for the most part these are limited to relatively
minor deletions of references to collection sources. In some
instances, the practice involves simply cutting out with a
razor a few words here and there from the text of, say, a
National Intelligence Estimate on Soviet missile capabilities.
Usually this is done on only a few documents being given to
tiie British or other English-speat(ing services.

. . . Although there are a good number of American Jews
in the Clandestine Services, many veterans of the OSS and the
early CIA German and East European operations, . . . Else-
where in the Agency, Jews serve in many capacities, some
at the very top of the organization, but in accordance
with tradition, none is engaged in analytical work on the
Mideast. . . .)

Domestic Operations

On December 17, 1972, the New York Times revealed that
the CIA had secretly provided training to fourteen New
York City policemen. At the time, agency spokesman Angus
Thuermer acknowledged that other American police depart-
ments had received "similar courtesies," but he would not
specify how many. Thuermer said to the Times, "I doubt

188

The CIA and the Cult of Inietligence

very much that (CIA officials] keep that kind of information."
But New York Congressman Edward Koch persisted in seek-
ing precisely "that kind of information" from the agency.
On January 29, 1973, the CIA's Legislative Counsel, John
Maury (himself a longtime clandestine operator and former
station chief in Greece), admitted to Koch that "less than
fifty police officers all told, from a total of about a dozen
city and county police forces, have received some sort of
Agency briefing within the past two years." But again the
CIA was being less than forthcoming, for its police training
(which consisted of much more than a "briefing") had been
going on for considerably more than the two years cited by
the CIA — at least since 1967, when Chicago police received
instruction at both the agency's headquarters and at "The
Farm" in southeastern Virginia. When queried by newspaper
reporters in 1973, police authorities in Chicago denied that
any of their men had received any such agency training. But
Richard Helms, then recently departed as Director, specifi-
cally told a secret session of the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee at the beginning of February that Chicago police
had been included in the agency training effort, and his
disclosure subsequently leaked out to the press.

It was significant that when the CIA publicly owned up to
training sessions in Maury's letter to Koch, the only time
period mentioned was "the past two years"; it was likely
true that in "the past two years" fewer than fifty officers
from a dozen localities had been trained. But if the CIA had
confessed to the full extent of its pre-1971 police-training
activities, the figures would have been much larger. More
important, the agency could not have justified its domestic
police-training program, as it did, on the grounds that a
provision of the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets
Act of 1968 encouraged federal law enforcement agencies to
assist local forces. That law was not passed until June 1968,
well after the CIA training had started. Of course, once the
agency had been shown to have carried out this domestic
activity, it needed such a justification or excuse: the Na -
tional Security Act of 1947 had forbidden it to exercise an y
"pol i ce, subptJena, law-enforcement powers, or internal secu -
rity functions '

" inc tadics used by the CIA to cover its tracks in this
instance were typical of the kind of deception that the agency
has generally used to conceal its numerous activities inside

Espionage and Counterespionage 189

the United States. The subjea of domestic operations is a
particularly sensitive one in the CIA, and probably no other
program is handled with greater secrecy.

CIA training of local police departments may seem like a
relatively harmless activity, but it does raise several questions.
Why did the agency at first try to cover up and then mislead
Congress, the press, and the public about its activity? Why
could the same training not have been given by the FBI,
which maintains facilities and has legal authorization for that
purpose? (Helms told the Foreign Relations Committee that
the police requested CIA assistance because the agency's
techniques in keeping intelligence files and in performing
certain kinds of surveillance were more advanced than the
FBI's.) And why have subsequent CIA Directors James
Schlesinger and William Colby not specifically ruled out any
future police training, even after the press and the Congress
have raised the questions of illegality and impropriety?

None of these questions has an obvious answer. In general,
however, the CIA does not like to admit that it has been
doing something it shouldn't have, and deceptive public
statements by the agency are as much a standard reflex
action as an indication that something particularly unsavory
has occurred. Another explanation might be that during
those days in December 1972 and January 1973 when the
police-training incident was being exposed, the Watergate
cover-up had not yet come unglued and the CIA might have
been trying to keep investigators away from its domestic
activities. A few months later, of course, the press would
discover, and various public officials would reveal, that Rich-
ard Helms had been "most cooperative and helpful" in
helping to organize the top-secret White House plan for
domestic surveillance and intelligence collection; that the
CIA had provided "technical" assistance to the White House
plumbers in their 1971 burglary of the office of Daniel
Ellsberg's psychiatrist; that the agency maintained "safe
houses" in the heart of Washington where E. Howard Hunt
was clandestinely provided with CIA-manufactured false
documents, a disguise, a speech-altering device, and a cam-
era fitted into a tobacco pouch; that five of the seven
Watergate burglars were ex-CIA employees, and one was
still on the payroll and regularly reporting to an agency case
officer; that in the week after the break-in at the Democratic
Party's headquarters, high White House officials tried to

190

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

involve the agency directly in the Watergate cover-up; and,
perhaps most significantly, that top CIA officials remained
silent, even in secret testimony before congressional com-
mittees, about the illegal activities they knew had taken
place. In fact, Helms' answers to the Senate Foreign Rela-
tions Committee's questions on Watergate in February and
March 1973 proved to be so evasive and misleading, particu-
larly as subsequent disclosures were made, that the Washington
Post's Laurence Stern wrote on July 10 of the same year
"that the word perjury was being uttered in Senate offices
by those who were privy to the secret testimony given by
Helms. ..."

At a February 7 hearing, for example. New Jersey's Sena-
tor Clifford Case told Helms it had come to his attention
that in 1969 or 1970 the White House had asked the various
government intelligence agencies to pool resources to learn
more about the anti-war movement. "Do you know anything,"
Case asked Helms, "about any activity on the part of the
CIA in that connection? Was it asked to be involved?"
Helms replied, "I don't recall whether we were asked, but
we were not involved because to me that was a clear viola-
tion of what our charter was." Case persisted. "What do you
do in a case like that? Suppose you were?" Helms answered,
"I would simply go to explain to the President this didn't
seem advisable." Case; "That would end it?" Helms: "Well,
I think so, normally."*

But the facts and suspicions to emerge from the Senate
Watergate hearings during the following months suggested
that this is not at all the way such matters are worked out
behind the scenes in the executive branch of the government,
raising still more questions as to the reliability of the CIA's
clandestine leadership — and the agency's role in U.S. do-
mestic intelligence operations.

'Four monlhs later a memorandum written by former While House aide Tom
Charles Huston leaked to the New York Times ll outlined a program for
domestic surveillance of U.S. citizens thut had hccn approved by President
Nixon on July 15. 1970. and (hen rescinded by him five days later. Huston
noted a scries of meetings with top officials of the FBI. the CIA. the DIA. the
NSA. and the service intelligence agencies, and said. "I went into this exer-
cise fearful that CIA would refuse to cooperate. In fact. Dick Helms was most
cooperative and helpful." According to the Huston memorandum, the authen-
ticity of which has been confirmed by the White House, the CIA was slated to
be a full participating member.

Espionage and Counterespionage 191

The CIA and the FBI

The CIA has always conducted clandestine operations within
the United States, although for the most part these have
been related to its overseas activities or their support. It was
for this purpose that the agency originally established, a
number of years ago, a special comp>onent of the Clandes-
tine Services, the Domestic Operations Division. But the
separation between foreign-oriented covert operations and
those considered essentially domestic is often vague and
confusing in the intelligence business. Thus, over the years
there has been constant bureaucratic friction between the
CIA and the FBI, which has primary responsibility for
internal security. Compromises and other working arrange-
ments have had to be evolved, allowing the CIA a certain
operational latitude within the U.S.A. and giving the bureau
in return special privileges abroad in the agency's sphere of
responsibility.

The Domestic Operations Division (DOD), with a staff of
a few hundred people and an annual budget of up to SIO
million, is a well-established part of the Clandestine Services.
Divisional headquarters for Domestic Operations is not at
the main CIA installation at Langley, but in an office build-
ing on downtown Washington's Pennsylvania Avenue, within
two blocks of the White House. This is also the Washington
"station," and its subordinate "bases" are situated in major
American cities. These offices are separate from the agency's
other facilities for routine p>ersonnel-recruiting and overt
contact with American overseas travelers. The "secret" DOD
offices serve as springboards for the Clandestine Services'
covert operations in American cities.

The DOD is surrounded by extreme secrecy, even by CIA
standards, and its actual functions are shrouded in mystery.
The extent of the agency's unwillingness to discuss the Do-
mestic Division could be seen when the CIA officer prepar-
ing the agency's annual budget request to Congress in 1968
was pointedly told by the Executive Director not to include
anything about the DOD in the secret briefing to be given to
the Senate and House appropriations committees. In at least
one other instance, Director Helms was specifically asked in
a secret congressional session about the "Domestic Opera-
tions Division." In his answer to the unsuspecting legislators,
he described the functions of the "Domestic Contact Service"

192

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

— the overt agency office that recruits American travelers to
be unofficial CIA eyes and ears abroad — which at the time
was a completely separate entity housed outside the Clandes-
tine Services.

The Domestic Division's task, like all agency clandestine
area divisions, is the collection of covert intelligence and the
conduct of other secret operations — but in this instance in-
side the United States. It operates some of the espionage
programs aimed against foreign students and other visitors
to the United States, but by no means all of them. Recruit-
ment of a Soviet diplomat at the United Nations or in
Washington would fall under the Clandestine Services' So-
viet Bloc Division. Programs with Cuban-Americans in Flor-
ida would be handled by the Western Hemisphere Division,
the Covert Action Staff, or the Special Operations (para-
military) Division — depending on the agent's intended role.

There is a relatively widespread feeling among observers
of the CIA's Clandestine .Services that the DOD would like
to do more on the American scene than it apparently has up
to now. It is also believed that if the Nixon administration's
domestic-security plan of 1970 and the related surveillance of
American dissidents had ever been put into operation — which
the White House has denied but various press accounts have
suggested — the DOD probably would have become deeply
involved. The rationale used by the CIA would most likely
have been the same one mentioned by Director Colby at his
confirmation hearing: that the agency can rightfully spy on
Americans "involved with foreign institutions." To the mis-
trustful minds of the Clandestine Services, the problems
caused in the United States by dissidents, civil-rights activists,
and anti-war protesters certainly conjured up the specter of
foreign influences. After all, the covert officers reasoned,
the dissident political groups in the United States were obvi-
ously receiving financial support from somewhere, and the
sources could be foreign. The clandestine operators familiar
with the CIA's secret efforts to aid and strengthen anti-
government groups in Eastern Europe and elsewhere easily
calculated that somehow the communist countries were now
getting even by using American groups to stir up trouble in
the United States. CIA support for dissident movements in
Eastern Europe never made any less real the source of their
grievances, but that did not prevent the agency from using
them to put pressure on the Soviet government and perhaps

Espionage and Counterespionage 193

even to divert Moscow's attention from its struggle with the
West. And in the late 1960s and early 1970s American dissi-
dents were certainly causing difficulties for the U.S. govern-
ment. Since the Clandestine Services knew it had exploited
similar circumstances in Eastern Europe, its operators natu-
rally looked for KGB involvement in the United States.*

The Johnson White House, however, had chosen not to
involve the CIA deeply in domestic clandestine operations at
the time when it first asked, back in the beginnings of the
anti-war movement. The Domestic Operations Division was
given only a small piece of the action — namely, to increase
its surveillance of the movement, and its activities against
direct foreign involvement in the movement. The FBI, too,
was instructed to expand its domestic political-intelligence
capabilities. But the lion's share of the rg^P ^J Q'ji b ^ litv in I he
m atter was efven to thi; Pfintag j^f) — in particular, the Arm^y —
apparently under a ne w ly di scovered, but outdatecT eqver-
-ge ncy law granting the'PresKTenl special power to iitilize the
"military and take whatevefrffe'asures he deemEd necessary
to put down'BoiTTnfic'unresl aii tT "co n spjra c i e 5_ LifefaT T(5ja I
justification probably was not TFie^'oIeTeason why Army
intelligence was assigned as the main instrument with which
to attack the domestic targets; size was another consideration.
Neither the CIA nor the FBI had the manpower for an
all-out clandestine offensive against the radicals. Nor did
either have available large numbers of young intelligence
personnel who could actually penetrate the movement. But
Army Intelligence soon blundered, and its domestic surveil-
lance programs were exposed in January 1970 by ex-agent
Christopher Pyle, writing in the Washington Monthly. Dur-
ing the following year the military services were forced to
withdraw from their massive attack against domestic dissidents;
the field was once again left to the "professionals" — the FBI
and the CIA.

This situation, however, soon resulted in an open break
between the agency and the bureau. The New York Times
attributed the split, in late 1971, to a minor event involving
jurisdictional control over the handling of an informant/agent

*Oandestine Services had sympathizers everywhere. H. R. Haldeman, in a
secret memo made public during the Senate Watergate hearings: "We need
our people to put out the story on the foreign or Communist money that was
used in support of demonstrations against the President in 1972."

194

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

in Denver, Colorado. But shortly afterward Sam Papich, the
FBI's officer in charge of liaison with the CIA, and a mem-
ber of J. Edgar Hoover's immediate staff, was dismissed by
the bureau chief. And only weeks later William Sullivan,
head of the FBI's Division of Internal Security, the bureau's
representative on the U.S. Intelligence Board, and a good
friend of the CIA, was locked out of his office and fired by
Hoover.

In the aftermath of the troubles at the FBI, the press
earned a series of reports of Hoover's and the bureau's
incompetence. Some comments, attributed to "authoritative
sources" in the intelligence community, accused the FBI of
having done a poor job of protecting the nation's internal
security in recent years. These same sources also noted that
the bureau had uncovered only a handful of foreign spies in
the United States during the past several years, and de-
scribed the FBI as lacking in the "sophisticated" approach to
modem counterespionage. Such statements, in substance and
in phraseology, clearly originated with, or were inspired by,
the CIA.

What the public was unaware of at the time, however, was
that since 1970 — long before the open CIA-FBI split — the
White House had been planning to expand domestic intelli-
gence operations. And while the CIA had gone along with
and encouraged the secret policy, the FBI had resisted it. It
was, in fact, Hoover's personal refusal to support the new
policy that resulted in the collapse of the White House plan.
And it was in these circumstances that a paranoid President
then established the infamous "plumbers" squad, with which
the CIA was evidently quite willing to cooperate — and with
which the FBI seems to have been reluctant to become
involved.

When CIA Director William Colby was asked at his Senate
confirmation hearings, in the fall of 1973, what he believed to
be the proper scope of CIA activities svithin the United
States, his first response was "We obviously have to run a
headquarters here; we have to recruit people for our staffs,
and so forth, and we have to conduct investigations on those
people. . . ." No one disputes the need for the agency to
conduct certain routine administrative business within the
United States, but few people realize that what the "head-
quarters" needs to be "run" includes dozens of buildings in

Espionage and Counterespionage 195

the Washington area alone, large training facilities at several
locations in Virginia, a paramilitary base in North Carolina,
secret air bases in Nevada and Arizona, communications and
radio intercept bases around the country, scores of "dummy"
commercial organizations and airlines, operational offices in
more than twenty major cities, a huge arms warehouse in
the Midwest, and "safe houses" for secret rendezvous in
Washington and other cities. While most of these are ori-
ented toward foreign operations, some are used full- or
part-time for purely domestic activities.

Colby continued: "We have to contract with a large num-
ber of American firms for the various kinds of equipment
that we might have need for abroad." Again, this is on the
surface a legitimate function. The CIA every year purchases
tens of millions of dollars' worth of goods from domestic
companies — everything from office supplies to esoteric espio-
nage equipment. But Colby carefully left out any mention of
those other "purchases" — the services provided for by the
CIA's contractual relationships with universities, "think
tanks," and individual professors.

Many of these came to light in the winter of 1967 after
Ramparts first revealed the CIA subsidization of the Na-
tional Student Association and as exposure followed expo-
sure Richard Helms asked his Executive Director to report
back to him exactly what the CIA was doing on American
campuses. The Executive Director quickly found that he had
no easy task before him, since nearly every agency compo-
nent had its own set of programs with one or more Ameri-
can universities and there was no central office in the CIA
which coordinated or even kept track of these programs. A
special committee was formed to compile a report, and its
staff officers spent weeks going from office to separate office
to put together the study.

The committee compiled data on the hundreds of college
professors who had been given special clearances by the
agency's Office of Security to perform a wide variety of tasks
for different CIA components. The Intelligence Directorate,
for example, had a corps of consultants on campus who did
historical and political research, much like normal scholars,
with the difference that they were almost never permitted to
publish their findings; in a few instances, that rule was
suspended on condition that the source of their findings was

196

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

not identified, and if the work neatly coincided with a pre-
vailing CIA propaganda line.

Similarly, the Directorate of Science and Technology em-
ployed individual professors, and at times entire university
departments or research institutes, for its research and devel-
opment projects. (This apart from the millions of dollars of
work the S&T Directorate contracted out every year to
private companies and "think tanks.") Research of this type
included the development

LINE DELETED

These technical contracts were almost always drawn up
under the cover of being between the scholar (or the university)
and some government agency other than the CIA (the De-
fense Department or some component thereof were the most

commonly used).

In many cases, the CIA's research involvement on the
campuses went much deeper than simply serving as the
patron of scholarly work. In 1951, CIA money was used to
set up the Center of International Studies at the Massachu-
setts Institute of Technology. A key figure at the MIT Cen-
ter was Walt Rostow, a political scientist with intelligence
ties dating back to OSS service during World War II who
later became President Johnson's Assistant for National Se-
curity Affairs. In 19S2, Max Milllkan, who had been Director
of the CIA's Office of National Estimates, became head of
the center. This linkage between the CIA and research insti-
tutions on campus and in the private sector became standard
practice in later years, just as it did for the Pentagon. But
whereas the Pentagon's procedures could to some extent be
monitored by the Congress and the public, the CIA set up
and subsidized its own "think tanks" under a complete veil
of secrecy. When in 1953 the MIT Center published The
Dynamics of Soviet Society, a book by Rostow and his
colleagues, there was no indication to the reader that the
work had been financed by CIA funds and that it reflected
the prevailing agency view of the Soviet Union. MIT cut off
its link with the center in 1966, but the link between the
center and the CIA remained, and the agency has continued
to subsidize a number of similar, if smaller, research facili-
ties around the country.

The compilers of the 1967 study on CIA ties to the aca-

Espionage and Counterespionage 197

demic community also found that the Clandestine Services
had their own research links with universities, for the pur-
pose of developing better espionage tools (listening devices,
advanced weapons, invisible inks, etc.). But for the covert
operators, research was not the primary campus interest. To
the Clandestine Services the universities represented fertile
territory for recruiting espionage agents. Most large Ameri-
can colleges enrolled substantial numbers of foreign students,
and many of these, especially those from the Third World,
were (and are) destined to hold high positions in their home
countries in a relatively few years. TTiey were much easier to
recruit at American schools — when they might have a need
for money, where they could be easily compromised, and
where foreign security services could not interfere — than
they would be when they returned home. To spot and
evaluate these students, the Clandestine Services maintained
a contractual relationship with key professors on numerous
campuses. When a professor had picked out a likely candidate,
he notified his contact at the CIA and, on occasion, partici-
pated in the actual recruitment attempt. Some professors
performed these services without being on a formal retainer.
Others actively participated in agency covert operations by
serving as "cut-outs," or intermediaries, and even by carry-
ing out secret missions during foreign journeys.

The Clandestine Services at times have used a university
to provide cover or even assist in a covert operation overseas.
The best-known case of this sort was exposed in 1966 when
Ramparts revealed that Michigan State University had been
used by the CIA from 1955 to 1959 to run a covert police-
training program in South Vietnam. The agency had paid $25
million to the university for its service, and five CIA opera-
tors were concealed in the program's staff.

The 1967 study on the CIA's ties with American universities
covered all the activities described above, but the staff offi-
cer responsible for preparing it was told that no research
program concerning the use of drugs was to be mentioned in
the report.*

The final study that the Executive Director presented to

'The agency's interest in drugs was more than a passing one; one officer was
assigned to travel all over Latin America, buying up all sons of hallucinatory
drugs which might have some application to intelligence activities and operations.

198

The CIA and the Cull of Inlelligence

Director Helms was several inches thick, but the man who
wrote it was still not sure that it was complete, less because
he feared having overlooked some particular CIA compo-
nent or proprietary organization which had its own univer-
sity program than because he suspected that information had
been withheld from him, particularly by the covert operators.

Because of its sensitivity, only one copy of the study was
made, and it was turned over to the Director. Helms re-
viewed it and agreed with its conclusion: that all the CIA's
campus activities were valuable to the agency and should be
continued, except for a few individual contracts that had
become outdated or too exposed. In the end, there was
selective pruning of these programs, but essentially the CIA's
activities with and at the universities continued as they had
before the NSA scandal broke. They do so today.

The lone copy of the study was placed in the CIA Execu-
tive Director's safe for future reference. Within a few weeks
after Helms' review, the report had to be pulled out; a
controversy had erupted at a Midwestern university over
alleged contracts between a certain professor and the CIA.
When the study was consulted to find out if the allegations
were correct, neither the professor nor the program he was
associated with was listed anywhere in the bulky document.
There was a collective sigh of relief in the agency's executive
suite and some mumbling about irresponsible students mak-
ing ridiculous charges. Shortly thereafter, however, the
Director's staff found out that the exposed professor was
genuine and had telephoned his CIA contact to discuss how
he should react to the charges. He was told to get a teaching
job elsewhere — and he did.

Soon after, another incident occurred.

10 LINES DELETED

Returning to Director Colby's explanation of the CIA's
domestic activities:

We also, I believe quite properly, can collect foreign
intelligence in the United States, including the request-
ing [sic] American citizens to share with their Govern-
ment certain information they may know about foreign
situations, and we have a service that does this, and I
am happy to say a very large number of American

Espionage and Counierespionnge 199

citizens have given us some information. We do not pay
for that information. We can protect their proprietary
interest and even protect their names if necessary, if
they would rather not be exposed as the source of that
information.

What Colby' was referring to was the Domestic Contact
Service (DCS). The DCS's primary function has traditionally
been to collect intelligence from Americans without resort-
ing to covert methods. Until early 1973 the DCS was part of
the CIA's Intelligence Directorate, the overt analytical part
of the agency. The DCS's normal operating technique is to
establish relationships with businessmen, scholars, tourists,
and other travelers who have made trips abroad, usually to
Eastern Europe or China. These people are asked to pro-
vide information voluntarily about what they have seen or
heard on their journeys. Most often they are contacted by
the agency after they have returned home, but occasionally,
if the CIA hears that a particular person plans to visit, say, a
remote part of the Soviet Union, the DCS will get in touch
in advance and ask the traveler to seek out information on
certain targets. In the past the DCS has, however, shied
away from assigning specific missions, since the travelers are
not professional spies and may easily be arrested if they take
their espionage roles too seriously.

On several occasions over the years, the Clandestine Serv-
ices have expressed an interest in assuming control of the
DCS — with the argument that in the interest of efficiency all
CIA intelligence collection by human sources should be run
out of the same directorate. During the late 1960s the Clan-
destine Services were specifically rebuffed after a crude take-
over attempt, but as a compromise measure Director Helms
allowed clandestine operators to be assigned to the DCS in
order to better coordinate intelligence collection. The DCS
itself remained under the Intelligence Directorate. But in
early 1973 Director James Schlesinger approved the transfer
of the DCS to the Clandestine Services. Although there was
no public notice of this change and travelers were not in-
formed they were now dealing with the CIA's clandestine
operators, Senator William Proxmire somehow got the word
and told the Senate on August 1 , 1973, that he was "particularly
disturbed" by the shift. "Mr. Colby says," Proxmire explained,
"that this is to improve the coordination of its collection

200

Tht CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

activities with those of the Agency abroad. I find this disturb-
ing because of the possibility that the DCS. which has a
good reputation, may now become 'tainted' by the covert
side of the Agency."

Again. Colby at the Senate hearing:

We also, I believe, have certain support activities that
we must conduct in the United States in order to con-
duct foreign intelligence operations abroad; certain struc-
tures are necessary in this country to give our people
abroad perhaps a reason for operating abroad in some
respects so that they can appear not as CIA employees
but as representatives of some other entity.

Here Colby was undoubtedly talking about the CIA's
training facilities, weapons, warehouses, secret arrangements
with U.S. companies to employ "deep cover" CIA operators,
covert dealings with arms dealers, and other back-up activi-
ties necessary to support paramilitary operations and other
clandestine doings overseas. He may also have been refer-
ring to the CIA's use of American foundations, labor unions,
and other groups as fronts to fund covert-action programs
overseas, or to the proprietary corporations which operate
for the CIA around the world. In this last category are the
complex web of agency-owned airlines — Air America, Air
Asia, Civil Air Transport. Southern Air Transport, Inter-
mountain Aviation, ( DELETED ) — all of which have head-
quarters in the United States, and some of which maintain
extensive facilities here. These airlines are run in direct
competition with private companies, receive charter con-
tracts from the U.S. government, and often operate domesti-
cally, in addition to taking on secret missions for the CIA
abroad.

4 LINES DELETED

All these companies — and others not yet revealed — do much
more than provide cover for CIA employees, as Colby implied.
They represent businesses worth hundreds of millions of
dollars that can be used in all manner of operations by the
CIA both at home and overseas.

Espionage and Counterespionage 201

Colby concluded:

Lastly, I think that there are a number of activities in
the United States where foreign intelligence can he col-
lected from foreigners, and as long as there is foreign
intelligence, I think it is quite proper that we do this.

In this instance Colby was referring in part to the CIA's
efforts to recruit foreign students on American campuses,
and a similar program, operated with the cooperation of
military intelligence, to suborn foreign military officers who
come to the United States for training. But the CIA also
targets other foreign visitors to the U.S. — businessmen,
newsmen, scholars, diplomats. U.N. delegates and employees,
even simple tourists. It is specifically for the recruitment and
handling of foreign agents that the CIA maintains safe houses
in Washington, New York, and other cities.

Another group of Americans who are very much targets
of the CIA are recent immigrants. Almost from the moment
Fidel Castro took power in 1959, CIA operators have worked
closely with Cuban exiles, particularly in Florida. Most of
the recruiting and some of the training for the agency's
abortive invasion of the island in 1961 took place in the
Miami area. Even after that fiasco the CIA has continued to
use Cuban- Americans (few as celebrated as "retained" agent —
and Watergate burglar — Eugenio Martinez) to carry out guer-
rilla operations against the Castro government. It has also
been quite active among Eastern European emigres in the
United States. In November 1964, Eerik Heine, an Estonian
refugee living in Canada, sued for slander another Estonian
named Juri Raus, a resident of Hyattsville, Maryland. Raus,
who was American national commander of the Legion of
Estonian Liberation, was alleged to have denounced Heine
as an agent of the KGB. Raus' defense in court was based
not on the specifics of the case but on an affidavit submitted
by then CIA Deputy Director Richard Helms stating that
Raus was a CIA agent and had spoken out against Heine
among Estonian-Americans under direct agency orders. Helms
submitted two more affidavits to the court stating that the
CIA had further ordered Raus not to testify in court, but
explaining he had said what he had "to protect the integrity
of the Agency's foreign intelligence sources." The federal
judge, Roszel C. Thomsen, ruled in the CIA's favor and did

202

The CIA and the Cull of Iruelligence

not accept the plaintiff s contention that even if the agency
had ordered that the alleged slander be committed, it had no
power to do so under the National Security Act of 1947,
which forbade the CIA to exercise any "internal security
functions."
In his decision. Judge Thomsen wrote:

It is reasonable that emigre groups from behind the Iron
Curtain would be a valuable source of information as to
what goes on in their homeland. The fact that the intelli-
gence source is located in the United States does not
make it an "internal security function" over which the
CIA has no authority. The court concludes that activi-
ties by the CIA to protect its foreign intelligence sources
located in the United States are within the power granted
by Congress to the CIA.

By extension, it might also be argued that any "foreign
intelligence source" located in the United States, 6migr^ or
not, is fair game for the CIA. Clearly, American citizens
traveling abroad are eligible: clearly, researchers in universi-
ties are eligible; and if the agency can come up with a
reason — such as the threat of "foreign influence" in Ameri-
can politics — then everyone's eligible. And that eligibility
extends not only to the honor of being consulted, cajoled,
and financed, but to the privilege of being investigated,
suborned, or whatever else the covert operators might wish
to do.

PART III

8.

THE CLANDESTINE MENTALITY

The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in insidious
encroachment by men of zeal, well-meaning but
without understanding.

— JUSTICE BRANDEIS. 1928

The nation must to a degree take it on faith that
we too are honorable men devoted to her service.

— CIA DIRECTOR HELMS. 1 971

The man who masterminded and oversaw the CIA's clandes-
tine operations in Indochina during much of the 1960s was
William Colby. He is a trim, well-groomed Princeton and
Columbia Law School graduate who, if he were taller, might
be mistaken for a third Bundy brother. He started in the
intelligence business during World War II with the Office of
Strategic Services. His field assignments included parachut-
ing into German-occupied France and Norway to work with
the anti-Nazi underground movements, during which he
showed a remarkable talent for clandestine work. After the
war he joined the newly formed CIA and rose rapidly through
its ranks, becoming an expert on the Far East. From 1959
until 1962 he served as the CIA's chief of station in Saigon.
In 1962 he was named head of the Far East Division of the
Clandestine Services.

In this position Colby presided over the CIA's rapidly
expanding programs in Southeast Asia. Under his leadership
(but always with White House approval) the agency's "secret"
war in Laos was launched, and more than 30,000 Meo and
other tribal warriors were organized into the CIA's own
Armee Clandestine. Colby's officers and agents directed —
and on occasion participated in — the battles against the Pathet
Lao, in bombing operations by the CIA's proprietary company
Air America, and in commando-type raids into China and
North Vietnam, well before Congress had passed the Gulf of
Tonkin Resolution.

206

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Colby seemed to keep the secret operation always under
tight control. His colleagues in the CIA marveled at his
ability to run all the agency's activities in Laos with no more
than forty or fifty career CIA officers in the field. There
were, to be sure, several thousand other Americans support-
ing the CIA effort, but these were soldiers of fortune or
pilots under contract to the agency, not career men. From
the CIA's point of view, the war in Laos was cheap (costing
the agency only S20 to S30 million a year) and well managed.*
The number of Americans involved was small enough that a
relatively high degree of secrecy could be maintained. In
contrast to the tens of thousands of Laotians who died in the
war, few Americans were killed, and those who were
casualties were not CIA career officers but rather mercenaries,
contract officers, and personnel of the agency's air proprie-
taries. The agency considered Laos to be a very successful
operation. And Colby received much of the credit for keep-
ing things under control.

The agency's clandestine activities in Vietnam were not so
well organized, concealed, or successful as its Laotian
operation. In the mid-I%Os the CIA was swept along with the
rest of the U.S. government into launching huge programs
designed to support the war effort. The agency would have
preferred to run relatively small, highly secret operations (or
to have had complete control of covert action), but the
stiffer and stiffer demands of the Johnson administration
made this impossible. Thus, if the President wanted a larger
contribution from the CIA, the CIA would contribute. In
1965 Colby, still stationed in Washington, oversaw the found-
ing in Vietnam of the agency's Counter Terror (CT) program.
In 1966 the agency became wary of adverse publicity sur-
rounding the use of the word "terror" and changed the
name of the CT teams to the Provincial Reconnaissance
Units (PRUs) Wayne Cooper, a former Foreign Service
officer who spent almost eighteen months as an advisor to
South Vietnamese internal-security programs, described the
operation: "It was a unilateral American program, never
recognized by the South Vietnamese government. CIA repre-
sentatives recruited, organized, supplied, and directly paid

*The f ull cost of Ihc war was aciuully closer to a half-hillion dollars a year, but
most of this was funded by other agencies — the Defense Department and
AID.

The Clandestine Mentality

207

CT teams, whose function was to use Vietcong techniques
of terror — assassination, abuses, kidnappings and intimida-
tion — against the Vietcong leadership." Colby also super-
vised the establishment of a network of Provincial Interroga-
tion Centers. One of these centers was constructed, with
agency funds, in each of South Vietnam's forty-four provinces.
An agency operator or contract employee directed each
center's operation, much of which consisted of torture tactics
against suspected Vietcong, such torture usually carried out
by Vietnamese nationals.

In 1967 Colby's office devised another program, eventually
called Phoenix, to coordinate an attack against the Vietcong
infrastructure among all Vietnamese and American police,
intelligence, and military units. Again CIA money was the
catalyst. According to Colby's own testimony in 1971 before
a congressional committee, 20,587 suspected Vietcong were
killed under Phoenix in its first two and a half years.'
Figures provided by the South Vietnamese government credit
Phoenix with 40,994 VC kills.

Also in 1967, President Johnson sent Robert Komer, a
former agency employee who had joined the White House
staff, to Vietnam to head up all the civilian and military
pacification programs. In November of that year, while Komer
was in Washington for consultation, the President asked him
if there was anything he needed to carry out his assignment.
Komer responded that he certainly could use the services of
Bill Colby as his deputy. The President replied that Komer
could draft anybody he chose. A year later Colby succeeded
Komer as head of the pacification program, with the rank of
ambassador. The longtime clandestine officer had ostensibly
resigned from the CIA to~become a State Department
employee.

One of Colby's principal functions was to strengthen the
Vietnamese economy in order to improve the lot of the

'Even Colby has admitted that serious abuses were committed under Phoenix.
Former intelligence officers have come before congressional committees and
elsewhere to describe repeated examples of torture and other particularly
repugnant practices used by Phoenix operatives. However, according to Da-
vid Wise, writing in the A/eiv York Times Magazine on July 1 . 1973, "Not one
of Colby's friends or neighbors, or even his critics on the Hill, would, in their
wildest imagination, conceive of Bill Colby attaching electric wires to a man's
genitals and personally turning the crank. 'Not Bill Colby . . . He's a Princeton
man. ' "

208 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

average Vietnamese peasant, and thereby make him less
susceptible to Vietcong appeals and more loyal to the Thieu
government. To win over the peasants, Colby insisted that
corruption within the Saigon government had to be greatly
reduced. At one point he even proposed a systematic cam-
paign called the "Honor the Nation" program, which was to
be an attack on illegal practices at all levels of Vietnamese
society. At that time Colby was well aware th-it black-market
trafficking in money was one of the biggest corruption prob-
lems in Vietnam. All U.S. personnel in Vietnam were under
strict orders not m^viy vielnamcse pTasTnT orr thc-bluih'-
niHrFeT ^ "n d a [I'uTtlTyPT'^lllTT Vrn'e r'^Tris "Tiad^lfier bee'n*'c5ur1 -
rh.irir 3Te3T:y the mililarv »7 Tfred t iyilfiei r civifi an "ag encies
Tor violating these nrderv Hut i.n\hy also It new that for
many "VeSrt tfie (_lATinf"bceh obtaining lens "Oi miii ions' of
tlcillars'm piastcrs orT the_blactrjTiar^et, either in Horfg Kong
or in SaT|onrTrftfiIs~way tTie agency couTdgefTwo TO IflTee

A3ffllJfflaMy, tine tJIaiiiiestine'^er»icf!! drfllfTICH, Claclt-murTel
piasters were untraceable and thus ideal for secret operations.*
Although from a strict budgetary point of view the agency's
currency purchases were sound fiscal policy, they directly
violated both Vietnamese law and U.S. official policy.
Moreover, the purchases helped to keep alive the black
market which the U.S. government was professedly working
to stamp oui.

During the mid-1960s while Colby was still in Washington,
the Bureau of the Budget learned that the CIA budget for
Vietnam provided for dollar expenditures figured at the
legal exchange rate. Since in truth the agency was buying its
piasters on the black market, it actually had two to three
times more piasters to spend in Vietnam than its budget
showed. The Bureau of the Budget then insisted that all
figures be listed at the actual black-market rate, so at least
examiners of the agency's budget in Washington would have
a true idea of how much money the CIA was spending. The
bureau then also tried to cut U.S. government costs by
having the CIA buy piasters for other agencies on the black
market. The agency was unenthusiastic about this idea and

'Given more than SO(),(X)U Americans in Vietnam, all using Viemamcse piasters,
and a chaotic Vietnamese banking system, the CIA could of course have
obtained untraceable or "sterile" money without resorting to the black market.

The Clandestine Mentality

209

managed to avoid doing it. not because massive black-market
purchases would have negated the government's avowed
efforts to support the piaster, but because the agency did not
want the secrecy of its money-exchange operations disturbed.

Compared to other aspects of the Vietnam war, the CIA's
use of the black market is not a major issue. It simply points
up the fact that the CIA is not bound by the same rules that
apply to the rest of the government. The Central Intelli-
gence Agency Act of 1949 makes this clear: "The sums made
available to the Agency may be expended without regard to
the provisions of law and regulations relating to the expendi-
tures of Government."*

Thus, a William Colby can. with no legal or ethical conflict,
propose programs to end corruption in Vietnam while at the
same time condoning the CIA's dubious money practices.
And extending th e ct)nceji|^of the ■'££"5^/'' immunitj^ 10,l.aw
and morals, a C^Tfby can JevTse anBToiret;! terror tactics,
'secr et wars, and the like,";!!!^ n't He~ narne nf t[F'Tl9^^'^CV , 'Hljs
i s'tT^e clandestine men taiiTv^ a separatjcin of personal moral-
Tty and conduct from actions, no matter'Tio«nieBSS6^"wRich
are taken IiTtFie name of the United States government and,
more specifically, the Central Intelligence Agency.

When Colby left his post as deputy ambassador to Viet-
nam in 1971, the CIA immediately "rehired" him, and Direc-
tor Helms appointed him Executive Director-Comptroller,
the number-three position in the agency. When James
Schlesinger took over the agency in early 1973, he made
Colby chief of the Clandestine Services. In May 1973, at the
height of the personnel shake-ups caused by the Watergate
affair. President Nixon moved Schlesinger to the Defense
Department and named Colby to head the CIA. Thus, after
about four months under the directorship of the outsider
Schlesinger, control of the agency was again in the hands of
a clandestine operator.

Senator Harold Hughes, for one, expressed grave reserva-
tions about Colby's appointment as CIA Director in a Sen-
ate speech on August 1, 1973: "I am fearful of a man whose

'The CIA in Vietnam even escaped ihe Johnson administration's worldwide
edict that all cars purchased by the American government would be of
American manufacture. While State Department and AID personnel were
forced to navigate Saigon's narrow streets In giant Chcvrolets and Plymoulhs,
the agency motorpool was full of much smaller and more practical Japanese
Toyotas.

210

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

experience has been so largely devoted to clandestine opera-
tions involving the use of force and manipulation of factions
in foreign governments. Such a man may become so enam-
ored with these techniques that he loses sight of the higher
purposes and moral constraints which should guide our
country's activities abroad."

Deeply embedded within the clande stine mentality is the
b elief that h^iman i^thira gnJ soci al laws Eave no FeSfTTT^ o n
c5v"er( op eration s or their pracTitioriers.'TTTe' mteTITgerice

profession, because oF rtTToftyTiatural security" goals, is
free from all moral restrictions. There is no need to wrestle
with technical legalisms or judgments as to whether some-
thing is right or wrong. The determining factors in secret

6e"m ain tan ned''

^ne of the lessons learned from the Watergate experience
is the scope of this amorality and its influence on the clandes-
tine mentality. E. Howard Hunt claimed that his participa-
tion in the Watergate break-in and the other operations of
the plumbers group was in "what I believed to be the . . .
the best interest of my country." In this instance, at least,
we can accept Hunt as speaking sincerely. He was merely
reflecting an attitude that is shared by most CIA operators
when carrying out tfie orders of their superiors.

Hunt expanded on this point when interrogated before a
federal grand jury in April 1973 by Assistant U.S. Attorney
Earl Silbert.

SILBERT: Now while you worked at the White House,
were you ever a participant or did you ever have knowl-
edge of any other so-called "bag job" or entry operations?

HUNT: No, sir.

SILBERT; Were you aware of or did you participate in
any other what might commonly be referred to as illegal
activities?

hunt: Illegal?

SILBERT: Yes, sir.

HUNT: I have no recollection of any, no, sir.
SILBERT: What about clandestine activities?
hunt: Yes, sir.

SILBERT: All right. What about that?

The Clandestine Mentality

211

HUNT: rm no t quibbli iifc^bm. Uiere!j. fluite a di.ffer-

pnrehetwppn ^nmp t hing that\ illegal jlnd something
IKatVclandesiiflf.,

SILBERtT Well, in your terminology, would the entry
into Mr. Fielding's [Daniel Ellsberg's psychiatrist) office
have been clandestine, illegal, neither or both''

HUNT: I would simply call it an entry operation
conducted under the auspices of competent authority.

Within the CIA, similar activities are undertaken with the
consent of "competent authority." The Watergate conspir-
ators, assured that "national security" was at stake, did not
question the legality or the morality of their methods; nor do
most CIA operators. Hundreds if not thousands of CIA men
have participated in similar operations, usually — but not
always — in foreign countries; all such operations are exe-
cuted in the name of "national security." The clandestine
mentality not only allows it; it veritably wills it.

In early October 1969, the CIA learned through a secret
agent that a group of radicals was about to hijack a plane in
Brazil and escape to Cuba. This intelligence was forwarded
to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia and from there
sent on an "eyes only" basis to Henry Kissinger at the White
House and top officials of the Slate Department, the De-
fense Department, and the National Security Agency. Within
a few days, on October 8, the same radicals identified in the
CIA report commandeered at gunpoint a Brazilian commer-
cial airliner with 49 people aboard, and after a refueling stop
in Guyana, forced the pilot to fly to Havana. Neither the
CIA nor the other agencies of the U.S. government which
had advance warning of the radicals' plans moved to stop
the crime from being committed, although at that time the
official policy of the United States — as enunciated by the
President — was to take all possible measures to stamp out
aerial piracy.

Afterwards, when officials of the Slate Department ques-
tioned their colleagues in the CIA on why preventive mea-
sures had not been taken to abort the hijacking, the agency's
clandestine operators delayed more than a month before
responding. During the interim, security forces in Brazil
succeeded in breaking up that country's principal revolution-
ary group and killing its leader, Carlos Marighella. Shortly
after the revolutionary leader's death on November 4, the

212

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

CIA informally passed word back to the State Department
noting that if any action had been taken to stop the October
skyjacking, the agency's penetration of the radical movement
might have been exposed and Marighella's organization could
not have been destroyed. While it was never quite dear
whether the agent who alerted the clandestine operators to
the hijacking had also Tingered Marighella, that was the
impression the CIA tried to conv ey to the Stale Department.
The agency implied it had not prevented the hijacking be-
cause to have done so would have lessened the chances of
scoring the more important goal of "neutralizing" Marighella
and his followers. To the CIA's clandestine operators, the
end — wiping out the Brazilian radical movement — apparently
had jnstined the means, thus permitting the hijacking to
take place aad needlesdy endangering forty-nine innocent
lives in the process.

During the last twenty-five years American foreign policy
has been dominated by the concept of containing communism;
almost always the means employed in pursuit of "national
securit>'" have been justified by the end. Since the "free
world" was deemed to be under attack by a determined
enemy, sincere men in the highest government posts be-
lieved — and still do believe — that their country could not
survive without resorting to the same distasteful methods
employed by the other side. In recent years the intensity of
the struggle has been reduced as monolithic communism has
split among several centers of power; as a result, there have
been tactical changes in America's conduct of foreign affairs.
Yet the feeling remains strong among the nation's top officials,
in the CIA and elsewhere, that America is responsible for
what happens in other countries and that it has an inherent
right — a sort of modern Manifest Destiny — to intervene in
other countries' internal affairs. Changes may have occurred
at the negotiating table, but not in the planning arena;
intervention — either military or covert — is still the rule.

To the clandestine operations of the CIA, nothing could be
more normal than the use of "dirty tricks" to promote the
U.S. national interest, as they and their agency determine it.
In the words of former Clandestine Services chief Richard
Bissell, CIA men "feel a higher loyalty and . . . they are
acting in obedience to that higher loyalty." They must be
able to violate accepted standards of integrity and decency

The Clandestine Mentality

213

when the CIA's objectives so demand. Bisscll admitted in a
1965 television interview that agency operators at times car-
ried out actions which "were contrary to their moral precepts"
but they believed "the morality of . . . cold war is so infi-
nitely easier than the morality of almost any kind of hot war
that 1 never encountered this as a serious problem."

Perhaps as a consequence of the confused morality that
guides him. a clandestine operator is dedicated to the utmost
secrecy. Convicted Watergate burglar Bernard Barker, who
long worked with and for the agency, described these opera-
tors in a September 1972 New York Times interview: "They're
anonymous men. They hate publicity; they get nervous with
it. They don't want to be spoken of. They don't even want
to be known or anythmg like that." And nearly always
accompanying this passion for secrecy comes an obsession
with deception and manipulation. These traits, developed in
the CIA's training programs, are essential elements for suc-
cess in the operator's career. He learns that he must become
expert at "living his cover." at pretending he is something he
is not. Agency instructors grade the young operators on how
well they can fool their colleagues. A standard exercise
given to the student spies is for one to be assigned the task
of finding out some piece of information about another.
Since each trainee is expected to maintain a false identity
and cover during the training period, a favorite way to coax
out the desired information is to befriend the targeted trainee,
to win his confidence and make him let down his guard. The
trainee who gains the information receives a high mark; his
exploited colleague fails the test. The "achievers" are those
best suited, in the view of the agency, for convincing a
foreign official he should become a traitor to his country; for
manipulating that official, often against his will; and for
"terminating" the agent when he has outlived his usefulness
to the CIA.

Operating with secrecy and deception gradually becomes
second nature to the clandestine operator as his early train-
ing progresses and he moves into an actual field assignment.
The same habits may at times carry over into his dealings
with his colleagues, and even his family. Most operators see
no inconsistency between an upstanding private life and
immoral or amoral work, and they would probably say that
anyone who couldn't abide the dichotomy is "soft." The
double moral standard has been so completely absorbed at

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The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

the CIA that Allen Dulles once stated, "In my ten years
with the Agency I only recall one case of many hundreds
where a man who had joined the Agency felt some scruples
about the activities he was asked to carry on." Even today
Dulles' estimate would not be far off.

As much as the operator believes in the rightness of his
actions, he is forced to work in an atmosphere that is poten-
tially demoralizing. He is quite often on the brink of the
underworld, or even immersed in it, and he frequently turns
to the least savory types to achieve his goals. Criminals are
useful to him, and are often called upon by him, when he
does not want to perform personally some particularly
distasteful task or when he docs not want to risk any direct
agency involvement in his dirty work. And if the clandestine
operator wants to use attractive young women to seduce
foreign officials, he does not call on female CIA employees.
Instead he hires local prostitutes, or induces foreign girls to
assume the seductress's role, hoping to use his women to
ferret information out of targeted opponents and to black-
mail them into cooperating with the CIA.

Other CIA men regularly deal with black-marketeers to
purchase "laundered" currency. The agency cannot very
well subsidize a political party in South Vietnam or buy
labor peace on the Marseilles docks with money that can be
traced back to the CIA. Thus, CIA "finance officers" perma-
nently assigned to Hong Kong, Beirut, and other interna-
tional monetary centers frequently turn to the world's illegal
money changers to support agency clandestine operations.
"Sterile" weapons for CIA paramilitary activities are ob-
tained in the same fashion from the munitions merchants
who will provide arms to anyone able to pay the price. And
when untraceable troops are needed to assist a CIA-sponsored
revolution or counter-revolution, the agency will put out the
word in such mercenary centers as Brussels, Kinshasa, and
Saigon that it is hiring soldiers of fortune willing to support
any cause for a price.

Yet there are certain standards the CIA's clandestine oper-
ator must maintain in order to hold on to his job and the
respect of his colleagues. By the agency's code, he is not
supposed to profit personally from his activities. If he were
involved in narcotics traffic for his own gain, he would
probably be fired for having been "corrupted by the trade."
But if the same CIA man were involved in narcotics traffic

The Clandestine Mentality

215

because he was using his narcotics connections to blackmail
a Soviet official, he would be considered by his colleagues to
be doing his work well.

While the CIA has never trafficked in dope as a matter of
official policy, its clandestine personnel have used this
trade — as they have used almost every other criminal activity
known to man — in the pursuit of their goals. In Laos the
CIA hoped to defeat the Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese
(and, thus, "stop communism"); for that purpose, it was
willing to supply guns, money, and training to the Meo tribe,
the part of the Laotian population most eager to fight for the
agency. The CIA was willing to overlook the fact that the
Meos' primary cash crop was opium and that they continued
to sell the drug during most of the years that they partici-
pated in the "secret" war as the "cutting edge" of the
anti-communist force in Laos. While the planes of the CIA
proprietary airline, Air America, were on occasion used to
carry opium and while some of the highest military officers
supported by the agency were also the kingpins of the drug
trade, the agency could still claim that it did not officially
sanction these activities. But not until the heroin traffic from
Southeast Asia was perceived as a major American problem
a few years ago did the CIA make any serious effort to curb
the flow of the drug, for it mattered not what sort of people
the Meo were — what mattered was what they were willing
and able to do for the CIA. The agency would hire Satan
himself as an agent if he could help guarantee the "national
security."

The key to a successful espionage operation is locating
and using the right agent. There are seven basic areas
of agent relations — spotting, evaluation, recruiting, testing,
training, handling, and termination. Each deserves extended
examination.

Spotting: This is the process of identifying foreigners or
other persons who might be willing to spy for the CIA.

The agency operator mingles as much as possible with the
native population in the country to which he is assigned,
hoping to spot potential agents. He normally concentrates
on officials in the local government, members of the military
services, and representatives of the intelligence agencies of
the host country. People in other professions, even if
recruitable, usually do not have access to the kind of strate-

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The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

gic or high-level information which the CIA is seeking. Most
operators work out of the local U.S. embassy; their diplo-
matic cover allows a convenient approach to their target
groups through the myriad of officials and social contacts
that characterize the life of a diplomat, even a bogus one
serving the CIA. Some agency officers pose as military men
or other U.S. government representatives — officials of the
AID, the USIA, and other agencies. In addition to official
cover, the CIA sometimes puts officers under "deep cover"
as businessmen, students, newsmen, or missionaries.

The CIA operator is constantly looking for indications of
vulnerability on the part of potential foreign agents. The
indicators may come from a casual observation by the opera-
tor at a cocktail party, gossip picked up by his wife, sugges-
tions from already recruited agents, or assistance furnished
— wittingly or unwittingly — by a genuine American diplomat
or businessman. The CIA operator receives instruction, based
on studies made by agency specialists or American college
professors under contract to the CIA, on what kinds of
people are most susceptible to the intrigues and strategies of
clandestine life. Obviously, the personality of the potential
spy varies from country to country and case to case, but
certain broad categories of preferable and susceptible agent
types have been identified. The most sought-after infor-
mants are foreign officials who are dissatisfied with their
country's policies and who look to the United States for
guidance. People of this sort are much more likely to be-
come loyal and dedicated agents than those whose primary
motivation is monetary. Money certainly can go a long way
in obtaining information, especially in the Third World, but
the man who can be bought by the CIA is also a relatively
easy mark for the opposition. On the other hand, the agent
who genuinely believes that what he is doing has a higher
purpose will probably not be vulnerable to approaches from
the KGB or other opposition services, and he is less likely to
be plagued by the guilt and the accompanying psychological
deterioration which frequently hamper the work of spies.
The ideological "defector in place" is the prize catch for
CIA operators. Other likely candidates for spying are offi-
cials who have expensive tastes which they cannot satisfy
from their normal incomes, or those with an obviously un-
controllable weakness for women, other men, alcohol, or
drugs.

The Clandestine Mentality

217

The operator does not always search for potential agents
among those who are already working in positions of
importance. He may take someone who in a few years may
move into an important assignment (with or without a little
help from the CIA). Students are considered particularly
valuable targets in this regard, especially in Third World
countries where university graduates often rise to high-level
governmental positions only a few years after graduation. In
Latin American and African countries the agency puts spe-
cial emphasis on seeking agents in the armed forces, since so
many of these nations are ruled or controlled by the military.
Hence, the "cleared" professors on the CIA's payroll at
American universities with substantial foreign enrollments,
and military training officers at such places as the field
command school at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, are prime
recruiters.

In the communist countries, as we have said, agency opera-
tors tend to focus on members of the opposition intelligence
services in their search for secret agents.

Evaluation: Once a potential spy has been spotted, the
agency makes a thorough review of all information available
on him to decide whether he is, or someday will be, in a
position to provide useful intelligence. The first step in the
evaluation process is to run a "namecheck," or trace, on the
person, using the CIA's extensive computerized files located
at headquarters in Langley. This data bank was developed by
International Business Machines exclusively for the CIA
and contains information on hundreds of thousands of persons.
Any relevant biographical information on the potential agent
found in the files is cabled back to the field operator, who
meanwhile continues to observe the prospect and makes
discreet inquiries about his background, personality, and
chances for advancement. The prospect will probably be put
under surveillance to learn more of his habits and views.
Eventually a determination will be made as to the prospect's
probable motivation (ideological, monetary, or psychological)
for becoming a spy. If he hasn't any such motivation, the
CIA searches for ways — blackmail and the like — of pressur-
ing him. At the same time, the case officer must determine if
the prospect is legitimate or if he is an enemy plant — a provo-
cation or a double agent. Some member of the CIA team,
perhaps the original spotter, will attempt to get to know the
potential agent on a personal basis and win his confidence.

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The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Recruiting: At the conclusion of the evaluation period,
which can last weeks or months, CIA headquarters, in
consultation with the field component, decides whether or
not the prospective agent should be approached to spy for
the agency. Normally, if the decision is affirmative, a CIA
outsider will approach the prospect. Neither the spotter nor
the evaluator nor, for that matter, any member of the local
agency team will generally be used to make the recruitment
"pitch"; if something goes wrong, the individual being propo-
sitioned will therefore be unable to expose any of the CIA
operators. As a rule, the CIA officer giving the pitch is
furnished with a false identity and given an agency-produced
fake American passport. The "pitchman" can quickly slip
out of the country in case of trouble.

Once the recruiter is on the scene, agency operators will
concoct a meeting between him and the prospective agent.
The pitchman will be introduced to the target under care-
fully prearranged — and controlled — circumstances, allowing
the operator who made the introduction to withdraw dis-
creetly, leaving the recruiter alone with the potential agent.
Steps also will have been taken to provide the recruiter with
an escape route in the event that the pitch should backfire.
If he is clever in his approach, the recruiter makes his pitch
subtly, without any overt statements to reveal his true pur-
pose or afniiation with the agency.

If the potential agent has previously voiced opposition to
his government, the recruiter is likely to begin with an appeal
to the man's patriotic obligations and higher ideological
inclinations. Ways by which he could aid his country and its
people through secret cooperation with a benevolent foreign
power will be suggested. If, on the other hand, the prospect
is deemed susceptible to money, the recruiter probably will
play to this point, emphasizing that he knows of ways for
the right individual to earn big money — quickly and easily. If
the subject is interested in power, or merely has expensive
habits to satisfy (sex, drugs, and so forth), if he wants to
defect from his country, or simply wishes to get away from
his family and social situation, the recruiter will attempt to
concentrate his efforts on these human needs, all the time
offering suggestions as to how they may be met through
cooperation with "certain parties." People volunteer or agree
to spy on their governments for many reasons. It is the task

The Clandestine Mentality

219

of the recruiter to determine what reason — if one exists — is
most likely to motivate the potential agent.

If the agency has concluded that the prospect is vulnerable
to blackmail, thinly veiled threats of exposure will be em-
ployed during the pitch. In some cases, however, the re-
cruiter may directly confront the potential agent with the
evidence which could be used to expose him, in an effort to
shock him into accepting the recruitment pitch. And in all
cases the meeting between the recruiter and the prospect
will be monitored either by audio surveillance (i.e., a tape
recording) or some other method — photographs, fingerprints,
or anything which will produce evidence that can later be
used to incriminate the prospect. If not at first susceptible to
blackmail, the prospect who wittingly or unwittingly enter-
tains a recruitment job may afterward find himself entrapped
by evidence which could be employed to ruin his career or
land him in jail.

After the prospect accepts the CIA's offer, or yields to
blackmail, the recruiter will go into the details of the
arrangement. He may offer an agent with high potential $500
to $1,000 a month, say, partly in cash but mostly by deposit
in an escrow account at some American or Swiss bank. He
will try to keep the direct non-escrow payments as low as
possible: first, to prevent the man from going on a spending
spree which could attract the unwanted attention of the local
security service, and, second, to strengthen his hold over the
spy. The latter reason is particularly important if the agent is
not ideologically motivated. The recruiter may pledge that
the CIA will guarantee the safety of the agent or his family,
in case of difficulties with the local police, and he may
promise a particularly valuable agent a lifelong pension and
even American citizenship.

The fulfillment of such pledges varies greatly, depending
on the operational situation and the personality of the CIA
case officer in charge. Some are cynical, brutal men whose
word, in most instances, is absolutely worthless. Others,
though, will go to extraordinary lengths to protect their
agents. In the early 1960s in Syria, one CIA man endangered
his life and that of a trusted colleague to exfiltrate an agent
who had been "rolled up" (i.e., captured) by the local
security service, tortured, and forced to confess his complic-
ity in the CIA's operations there. Although the agent, ren-
dered a physical and mental wreck, was no longer of any use

220

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

to the CIA, the two operators put him in the trunk of a private
automobile and drove him to a nearby country — and safety.

The recruiter will try to get the new agent, upon agree-
ment to work for the CIA, to sign a piece of paper that
formally and evidentially connects him with the agency, a
paper which can later be used to threaten a recalcitrant
agent with exposure, should he balk at continuing to work
for the CIA.

The recruiter's last function is to set up a meeting between
the new agent and the CIA operator stationed in that coun-
try who will serve as his case officer. This will often involve
the use of prearranged recognition signals. One technique,
for example, is to give the agent a set of unusual cufflinks
and lell him that he will soon be approached by a man
wearing an identical pair. Another is to set up an exchange
of code words which the case officer can later use to identify
himself to the agent. When all this is accomplished, the
recruiter breaks off the meeting and as soon as possible
thereafter leaves the country.

When the recruitment pitch doesn't work . . .

The recruitment pitch sometimes goes wrong. One such
case occurred in . . . when CIA coven operators . . . spotted
and evaluated . . . official. . . the . . . back at headquarters
in Langley. was so excited by the prospect of recruiting a . . .
official thai he took personal control of the operation. He did
not want to entrust responsibility to the field station. . . When
the time came to select a recruiter,. . . chose himself and
ordered . . . to assist him. The station . . . would have pre-
ferred someone from . . . to make the recruitment pitch, since
the operation already had had to be delayed for several pre-
cious days while . . . made final arrangements to travel . . .
Bui ... /if had the support of CIA Director Helms.

Traveling . . . arrived . . . followed a day later declaring
himself to be . . . the two CIA men went . . . to talk to . . .,
who had no idea the CIA was interested in him. . . . Highly
embarrassed, they returned to CIA headquarters to make
their report. Not only had the operation been a complete
failure, the two senior clandestine professionals had commit-
ted an even worse sin in the Agency's view. . . .* meeting

'Alt names in this account are real. The authors feet no compunction in not
u.ung pseudonyms, since a skeletal report of the incident listing names bur filled
viih disinformation appeared in the April 2X I'fth, Washinglan Pdsl as an
Associated Press dispatch.

The Clandestine Menialiiy

221

with a potential agent/defector in a local "gasthaus" only to
find that the occupants of the nearby tables were not Vien-
nese but rather members of a KGB goon squad. In that
instance, when fighting erupted, he managed lo escape by
fleeing to the men's room and ignominlously crawling to
safety through the window above the toilet.

Testing: Once an agent has been recruited, his case officer
immediately tests his loyalty and reliability. He will be given
certain tasks to carry out which, if successfully performed,
will establish his sincerity and access to secret information.
The agent may be asked, for example, to collect information
on a subject about which, unknown to him, the agency has
already acquired a great deal of knowledge. If his reporting
does not jibe with the previous intelligence, he is likely to be
either a double agent attempting to mislead his case officer
or a poor source of information clumsily trying to please his
new employer. When feasible, the agent's performance will
be carefully monitored during the testing period through
discreet surveillance.

In addition, the new agent will almost certainly be re-
quired to take a lie-detector test. CIA operators place heavy
reliance on the findings of a polygraph machine — referred to
as the "black box" — in their agent operations. Polygraph
specialists are available from headquarters and several of the
agency's regional support centers to administer the test on
special assignment. According to one such specialist, testing
foreign agents calls for completely different skills than ques-
tioning Americans under consideration for career service
with the CIA. He found Americans to be normally straight-
forward and relatively predictable in their responses to the
testing, making it comparatively simple to isolate someone
who is not up lo the agency's standards. But testing foreign
agents, he says, is much more difficult. Adjustments must be
made to allow for cultural differences, and for the fact that
the subject is engaging in clearly illegal and highly dangerous
secret work. An ideologically motivated agent, furthermore,
may be quite emotional and thus unusually difficult to "read,"
or evaluate, from the machine's measurements. One spying
solely for monetary gain or to satisfy some private vice may
be impossible to read because there is no way of gauging his
moral limits. Congenital liars, psychopaths, and users of
certain drugs can frequently "beat the black box." Accord-
ing to the polygraph expert, a decision on the agent's reliabil-

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The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

ity and sincerity is, therefore, based as much on the intuition
of the tester as on the measurements of the machine. The
agent, however, is led to believe that the black box is infallible,
so if he is neither a well-trained double agent nor clinically
abnormal, he will more than likely tell the truth.

Training. When the agent has completed the testing process,
he is next given instruction in the special skills required for
his new work as a spy. The extent, location, and specific
nature of the training varies according to the circumstances
of the operation. In some instances the secret iistruction is
quite thorough; on other cases the logistics sf such training
are nearly impossible to handle, and consequently there is
virtually none. In such circumstances the agent must rely on
his instinct and talents and the professionalism of his case
officer, learning the ways of clandestine life as the operation
develops.

When training can be provided to an agent, he will be
taught the use of any equipment he may need — a miniature
camera for photographing documents, for example. He will
be instructed in one of several methods of covert communi-
cations — secret writing, ooded or encrypted radio transmis-
sions, or the like. He will also learn the use of clandestine
contacts. And he will be given training in security precautions,
such as the detection and avoidance of surveillance.

Depending upon the agent's availability, however, and his
estimated worth in the eyes of the Clandestine Services, he
may receive only a few short lessons from his case officer on
how to use an audio device or how to communicate with the
agency through a series of cut-outs. Or he may be asked to
invent a cover story to give to his family and his employer
that will allow him to spend several days or even a couple of
weeks at an agency safe house, learning the art of espionage.
He may even seek an excuse to leave the country so he can
receive instruction at a CIA facility in another nation, where
he is much less likely to be observed by his country's security
service. Or he may even be brought to the United States for
training, constantly monitored while here by the CIA Office
of Security. Special training facilities for foreign recruits,
isolated from all other activities, exist at Camp Peary — "The
Farm" — in southern Virginia.

While the tradecraft taught to the agent is unquestionably
useful, the instruction period also serves as an opportunity
for his case officer and the other instructors to motivate him

The Clandestine Menialiry

223

and increase his commitment to the CIA's cause. The agent
is introduced to the clandestine proficiency and power of the
agency. He sees its tightly knit professional camaraderie. He
learns that although he is abandoning his former way of life,
he now has a chance for a better one. Good work on his part
will be rewarded with political asylum; the government he is
rejecting may even be replaced by a superior one. Thus his
allegiance to his new employer is further forged. It is the
task of the case officer to maintain this attitude in the mind
of his agent.

Handling: Successful handling of an agent hinges on the
strength of the relationship that the case officer is able to
establish with his agent. According to one former CIA
operator, a good case officer must combine the qualities of a
master spy, a psychiatrist, and a father confessor.

There are two prevailing views within the CIA's Clandes-
tine Services on the best way to handle, or run, an agent.
One is the "buddy" technique, in which the case officer
develops a close personal relationhip with his agent and
convinces him that they are working together to attain an
important political goal. This approach can provide a power-
ful motivating force, encouraging the agent to take great
risks for his friend. Most senior operators believe, however,
that the "buddy" technique leads to the danger of the case
officer forming an emotional attachment to his agent, some-
times causing the CIA man to lose his professional objectivity.
At the other end of the agent-handling spectrum is the
"cynical" style, in which the operator, while feigning per-
sonal concern for the agent, actually deals with him in a
completely callous manner — one that may border on ruth-
lessness. From the beginning, this case officer is interested
only in results. He drives the agent to extremes in an at-
tempt to achieve maximum operational performance. This
method, too, has its drawbacks: once the agent senses he is
merely being exploited by his case officer, his loyalty can
quickly evaporate.

Agents are intricate and, often, delicately balanced in-
dividuals. The factors which lead them into the clandestine
game are many and highly complex. The stresses and pres-
sures under which they must function tend to make such
men volatile, often unpredictable. The case officer, therefore,
must continually be alert for any sign that his agent is
unusually disturbed, that he may not be carrying out his

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The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

mission. TTie operator must always employ the right mixture
of flattery and threats, ideology and money, emotional at-
tachment and ruthlessness to keep his agent actively working
for him.

With the Soviet Oleg Penkovsky, his British and CIA
handlers found that flattery was a particularly effective method
of motivation. Although he preferred British manners,
Penkovsky greatly admired American power. Accordingly,
he was secretly granted U.S. citizenship and presented with
his "secret" CIA medal. As a military man, he was quite
conscious of rank; consequently, he was made a colonel in
the U.S. Army to show him that he suffered no loss of status
because of his shift in allegiance.

On two occasions while Penkovsky was an active spy, he
traveled outside the U.S.S.R. on official duty with high-level
delegations attending Soviet-sponsoted trade shows. Both
times, first in London and then in Paris, he slipped away
from his Soviet colleagues for debriefing and training ses-
sions with British and American case officers. During one of
the London meetings, he asked to see his U.S. Army uniform.
None of the CIA men, nor any of the British operators, had
anticipated such a request. One quick-thinking officer,
however, announced that the uniform was at another safe
house and that driving there and bringing it back for
Penkovsky to see would take a while. The spy was temporar-
ily placated, and a CIA case officer was immediately dis-
patched to find a colonel's uniform to show to the agent.
After scurrying around London for a couple of hours in
search of an American Army colonel with a build similar to
Penkovsky's, the operator returned triumphantly to the de-
briefmg session just as it was concluding — uniform in hand.
Penkovsky was pleased.

Months later, in Paris, the CIA operators were better
prepared. A brand-new uniform tailored to Penkovsky's mea-
surements was hung in a closet in a room adjacent to where
he was being debriefed, and he inspected it happily when the
meeting was concluded.

In the 19S0s the CIA recruited an Eastern European intelli-
gence officer in Vienna whose motivation, like Penkovsky's,
was essentially ideological. While he was promised a good
salary (and a comfortable pension upon the completion of
the operation, at which time he would formally defect to the
United States)^ his case officer avoided making any direct

The Clandestine Mentality

225

payments to him in Vienna in order not to risk attracting the
opposition's attention to him. The agent well understood the
need for such precautions, yet after he had been spying for a
while, he shocked his case officer one day by demanding a
fairly substantial amount of cash. He refused to say why he
wanted the money, but it was obvious to his case officer
that the agent's continued good work for the agency was
contingent on getting the money he had requested. After
consultations with the local CIA station chief and with
headquarters, it was finally decided that the risk must be
taken and the agent was given the money, with the hope that
he would not do something outlandish or risky with it.
Agency operators then put him under surveillance to learn
what he was up to. To their consternation, they discovered
him the following weekend on the Danube River cruising
back and forth in a motorboat which he had just bought. A
few days afterward his case officer confronted him and de-
manded that he get rid of the boat, for it was not something
a man of his ostensibly austere circumstances could possibly
have purchased on his own salary. The agent agreed, casu-
ally explaining that ever since he was a small boy he had
wanted to own a motorboat. Now that yearning was out of
his system and he was quite willing to give up the boat.

Another Eastern European, who spied briefly for the CIA
years later, refused all offers of pensions and political asy-
lum in the West. He wanted only Benny Goodman records.

One of the biggest problems in handling an agent is caused
by the changeover of case officers. In keeping with the
CIA's policy of employing diplomatic and other forms of
official cover for most of its operators serving abroad, case
officers masquerading as U.S. diplomats, AID officials, De-
partment of Defense representatives, and the like, must be
transferred every two to four years to another foreign coun-
try or to Washington for a headquarters assignment, as is
customary with genuine American officials. A departing case
officer introduces his replacement to all his agents before he
leaves, but often the agents are initially reluctant to deal
with a new man. Having developed an acceptable working
relationship with one case officer, they usually are not eager
to change to another. Their reluctance is often heightened
by the agency's practice of assigning young case officers to
handle already proven agents. In this way, junior operators
can gain experience with agents who, as a rule, do not need

226

r/ie CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

as much professional guidance or sympathetic "hand-holding"
as newly recruited ones. Most agents, however, feel that
dealing with an inexperienced officer only increases the risks
of compromise. All in all, making the changeover can be
quite sticky, but it is almost always accomplished without
permanent damage to the operation. If persuasion and prom-
ises are not adequate to retain the agent's loyalty, threats of
blackmail usually are. The agency precaution of amassing
incriminating evidence — secret contracts, signed payment
receipts, tape recordings, and photographs — generally will
convince even the most reluctant agent to see things the
CIA's way.

In certain highly sensitive operations the problem of case-
officer changeover is avoided in deference to the wishes of a
particularly highly placed agent. The potential damage to
the operator's cover by his prolonged service in a given
country is considered of less importance than the mainte-
nance of the delicate relationship he has developed with the
agent. Similarly, in those situations where a CIA operative
has established a special ... a chief of state, such as in ... ,
Iran, Taiwan, and other countries, the agency officer may
serve as many as six or eight years on the operation before
being replaced. And when he is eventually transferred to
another post, great care is taken to select a replacement who
will be acceptable to the friendly chief of state.

Termination: All clandestine operations ultimately come
to an end. Those dependent upon agent activities have a
short life expectancy and often conclude suddenly. The agent
may die of natural causes or by accident — or he may be
arrested and imprisoned, even executed. In any such event,
the sole consideration of the CIA operators on the scene is
to protect the agency's interests, usually by covering up the
fact that the individual was a secret agent of the U.S.
government. Sometimes, however, the agency itself must
terminate the operation and dispose of the agent. The deci-
sion to terminate is made by the CIA chief of station in the
country where the operation is in progress, with the ap-
proval of agency headquarters. The reason for breaking with
an agent may be simply his loss of access to the secrets that
the CIA is interested in acquiring; more complicated is emo-
tional instability, lack of personal trustworthiness endanger-
ing the operation, or threat of imminent exposure and arrest.
Worst of all, there may be a question of political unreli-

The Clandestine Mentaliry

111

ability — it may be suspected that the man is. or has become,
a double agent, provocation, or deception controlled by an
opposition intelligence service.

The useless or unstable agent can usually be bought off or.
if necessary, successfully threatened. A reliable or useful
agent in danger of compromise or exposure to the opposition,
or an agent who has fulfilled his agreement as a spy and has
performed well, can be resettled in another country, pro-
vided with the necessary funds, even assisted in finding
employment or. at least, retraining for a new profession. In
those cases where the agent has contributed an outstanding
service to the CIA at great personal risk, particularly if he
burned himself out in so doing, he will be brought to the
United States for safe resettlement. The Director of Central
Intelligence, under the CIA Act of 1949, can authorize the
"entry of a particular alien into the United States for perma-
nent residence ... in the interest of national security or the
furtherance of the national intelligence mission." The agent
and his family can be granted "permanent residence without
regard to their inadmissibility under the immigration or any
other laws and regulations."

Resettlement, however, does not always go smoothly. And
sometimes this is the fault of the CIA. In the late 19S0s,
when espionage was still a big business in Germany, former
agents and defectors were routinely resettled in Canada and
Latin America. The constant flow of anti-communist refu-
gees to those areas was loo much for the agency's Clandes-
tine Services to resist. From time to lime, aa active agent
would be inserted into the resettlement process. But the
entire operation almost collapsed when, within a matter of
months, both the Canadian and Brazilian goveramenis dis-
covered that the CIA was using it as a means to plant
operating agents in their societies.

Not all former agents are willing to be resettled in the
United States, especially not on the CIA's terms. In the
1960s a high-ranking Latin American official who had been
an agent for years was forced for internal political reasons to
flee his native country. He managed to reach Mexico City,
where agency operators again made contact with him. In
consideration of his past services, the agency was willing to
arrange for his immigration to the U.S. under the 1949 CIA
law if he would sign an agreement to remain quiet about his
secret connection with the U.S. government and not become

228

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

involved in exile political activities in this country. The Latin
Amencan, who had ambitions to return tnumphantly to his
native country one day, refused to forgo his right to plot
against his enemies back home, and wanted residence in the
United States without citizenship, thus presenting the CIA
with a difficult dilemma. As long as the former agent re-
mained unhappy and frustrated in Mexico City, he repre-
sented a threat that his relationship with the agency and
those of the many other CIA penetrations of his government
which he knew about might be exposed. As a result, CIA
headquarters in Langley sent word to the station in Mexico
City that the ex-agent could enter the country without the
usual preconditions. The agency's top offlcials hoped that he
could be kept under reasonable control and prevented from
getting too deeply involved in political activities which would
be particularly embarrassing to the U.S. government.

It is only logical to believe that there are instances when
termination requires drastic action on the part of the operators.
Such cases are, of course, highly sensitive and quite uncom-
mon in the CIA. But when it does become necessary to
consider the permanent elimination of a particularly threat-
ful agent, the final decision must be made at the highest
level of authority, by the Director of Central Intelligence.
With the exception of special or paramilitary operations,
physical violence and homicide are not viewed as acceptable
clandestine methods — unless they are acceptable to the Di-
rector himself.

Two aspects of clandestine tradecraft which have particular
applicability to classical espionage, and to agent operations
in general, are secret communications and contacts. The
case ofHcer must set up safe means of communicating with
his agent; otherwise, there will be no way of receiving the
information that the agent is stealing, or of providing him
with instructions and guidance. In addition to a primary
communication system, there will usually be an alternate
method for use if the primary system fails. From time to
time, different systems will be employed to reduce the chances
of compromising the operation. As with most activities in
the intelligence game, there are no hard and fast rules gov-
erning communication with secret agents. As long as the
methods used are secure and workable, the case officer is

The Clandestine Meniality

229

free to devise any means of contact with his agent that is
suitable to the operational situation.

Many agents want to pass on their infonnation verbally to
the case officer. From their point of view, it is both safer and
easier than dealing with official papers or using spy equipment,
either of which could clearly incriminate them if discovered
by the local authorities. The CIA, however, prefers docu-
ments. Documents can be verified, thus establishing the
agent's reliability. They can be studied and analyzed in greater
detail and with more accuracy by the intelligence experts at
headquarters. In the Penkovsky case, for example, the se-
cret Soviet documents h^ provided were far more valuable
than his personal interpretations of events then occurring in
Moscow's military circles.

On the other hand, some agents want to have as little
personal contact as possible with their case officers. Each
clandestine meeting is viewed as an invitation to exposure
and imprisonment, or worse. Such agents would prefer to
communicate almost exclusively through indirect methods or
even by mechanical means (encoded or encrypted radio
messages, invisible ink, micro-dots, and so on). But the CIA
insists on its case officers having personal contact with their
agents, except in exceptionally risky cases. Periodically, the
spy's sincerity and level of motivation must be evaluated in
face-to-face meetings with the operator.

Each time the case officer has a personal contact with his
agent, there is the danger that the two will be observed by
the local security forces, or by a hostile service such as the
KGB. To minimize the risk of compromise, indirect meth-
ods of contact are employed most of the time, especially for
the passing of information from the agent to the operator.
One standard technique is the use of a cut-out, an intermedi-
ary who serves as a go-between. The cut-out may be witting
or unwitting; he may be another agent; he may even reside
in another country. Regardless, his role is to receive mate-
rial from either the agent or the case officer and then relay it
to the other, without being aware of its substance.

Another technique is the dead-drop, or dead-letter drop.
This is a kind of secret post-office such as a hollow tree, the
underside of a park bench, a crevice in an old stone wall —
any natural and unlikely repository that can be utilized for
transferring materials. (One of the dead-drops used in the
Penkovsky operation was the space behind the steam-heat

230

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

radiator in the entry of an apartment building in Moscow).
The agent simply deposits his material in the dead-drop at a
prearranged time; later it is "serviced" by the case officer or
a cut-out engaged for this purpose.

Still another frequently used technique is that of the brush
contact, in which the agent and his case officer or a cut-out
meet in passing at some prearranged public place. The agent
may encounter his contact, for example, on a crowded sub-
way platform, in a theater lobby, or perhaps on a busy
downtown street. Acting as if they are strangers, the two will
manage to get close together for a moment, long enough for
one to slip something into the other's hand or pocket. Or
they may quickly exchange newspapers or briefcases. Such a
contact is extremely brief as well as surreptitious, and usu-
ally it is quite secure if well executed.

Although the case officer makes frequent use of indirect
contacts, he still must arrange personal meetings with his
agent from time to time. Whenever there is a clandestine
meeting — on a bus, in a park, at a restaurant — other CIA
operators keep watch as a precaution against opposition
monitoring or interference. This is known in the covert
business as countersurveillance. The case officer works out
safe and danger signals in advance of each rendezvous with
both the agent and the countersurveillance team. In this
way, the operator, the agent, or any member of the team
can signal to the others to proceed with the meeting or to
avoid or break off contact if something seems out of the
ordinary. Safe houses (CIA-maintained residences) are also
used for meetings with agents, especially if there is a lot to
be discussed. A safe house has the advantage of providing
an atmosphere where the agent and the case officer can
relax and talk freely without fear of surveillance, but the
more frequently one location is used, the more likely it is to
be discovered by the opposition. The need for secrecy can
keep the clandestine operator busy; but it is a need on which
the clandestine operator thrives.

Agency Culture

A few years ago Newsweek magazine described the CIA as
the most secretive and tightly knit organization (with the
possible exception of the Mafia) in American society. The
characterization is something of an overstatement, but it

The Clandestine Menialiiy

231

contains more than a kernel of truth. In its golden era,
during the height of the Cold War, the agency did possess a
rare elan; it had a stuff of imaginative and daring officers at
all levels and in all directorates. But over the years the CIA
has grown old, fat, and bureaucratic. The esprit de corps and
devotion to duty its staff once h<id, setting the agency apart
from other government departments, has faded, and to a
great degree it has been replaced by an outmoded, doctri-
naire approach to its missions and functions. The true pur-
pose of secrecy — to keep the opposition in the dark about
agency policies and operations — has been lost sight of. Today
the CIA often practices secrecy for secrecy's sake — and to
prevent the American public from learning of its activities.
And the true purpose of intelligence collection — to monitor
efficiently the threatening moves of international adversaries —
has been distorted by the need to nourish a collective clan-
destine ego.

After the U.S. invasion of Cambodia in 1970, a few hundred
CIA employees (mostly younger officers from the Intelli-
gence and Science and Technology directorates, not the Clan-
destine Services) signed a petition objecting to American
policies in Indochina. Director Richard Helms was so con-
cerned about the prospect of widespread unrest in the agency's
ranks and the chance that word of it might leak out to the
public that he summoned all the protesters to the main
auditorium and lectured them on the need to separate their
personal views from their professional duties. At the same
time, similar demonstrations on the Cambodian issue were
mounted at the State Department and other government
agencies. Nearly every newspaper in the country carried
articles about the incipient rebellion brewing in the ranks of
the federal bureaucracy. The happenings at the CIA, which
were potentially the most newsworthy of all, were, however,
never discovered by the press. In keeping with the agency's
clandestine traditions, CIA employees had conducted a se-
cret protest.

To agency personnel who had had the need for secrecy
drilled into them from their moment of recruitment, there
was nothing strange about keeping their demonstration hid-
den from public view. Secrecy is an absolute way of life at
the agency, and while outsiders might consider some of the
resulting practices comical in the extreme, the subject is

232

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

treated with great seriousness in the CIA. Training officers
lecture new personnel for hours on end about "security
consciousness," and these sessions are augmented during an
employee's entire career by refresher courses, warning posters,
and even the semi-annual requirement for each employee to
review the agency's security rules and to sign a copy, as an
indication it has been read. As a matter of course, outsiders
should be told absolutely nothing about the CIA and fellow
employees should be given only that information for which
they have an actual "need to know."*

CIA personnel become so accustomed to the rigorous
security precautions (some of which are indeed justified)
that they easily accept them all, and seldom are caught in
violations. Nothing could be more natural than to work with
a telephone book marked sflkbt, an intentionally incom-
plete telephone book which lists no one working in the
Clandestine Services and which in each semi-annually re-
vised edition leaves out the names of many of the people
employed by the overt directorates, so if the book ever falls
into unauthorized hands, no enterprising foreign agent or
reporter will be able to figure out how many people work at
CIA headquarters, or even how many work in non-clandestine
jobs. Those temporarily omitted can look forward to having
their names appear in the next edition of the directory, at
which time others are selected for telephonic limbo. Added
to this confusion is the fact that most agency phone numbers
are regularly changed for security reasons. Most employees
manage to keep track of commonly called numbers by listing
them in their own personal desk directories, although they
have to be careful to lock these in their safes at night — or
else risk being charged with a security violation. For a first
violation the employee is given a reprimand and usually
assigned to several weeks of security inspection in his or her
of rice. Successive violations lead to forced vacation without
pay for periods up to several weeks, or to outright dismissal.

Along with the phone books, all other classified material
(including typewriter ribbons and scrap paper) is placed in

*Thc pcnchdnl for secrecy stimclimcs lakes on an air of liidicrousncss. Secret
medals Hrc uwardcd for outstanding pcrfiTrnHncc. but tficy cannot be worn or
shown outside the agency. Even athletic trophies — for intramural bowling.
Softball, and so on — cannot he displayed except within the guarded sanctuary
of the headquarters building.

The Clandestine Mentality-

233

these safes whenever an office is unoccupied. Security guards
patrol every part of the agency at roughly half-hour intervals
in the evening and on weekends to see that no secret docu-
ments have been left out. that no safes have been left
unlocked, and that no spies are lurking in the halls. If a
guard finds any classified material unsecured, both the per-
son who failed to put it away and the person within the
office who was assigned to double-check the premises have
security violations entered in their personnel files.

These security precautions all take place inside a headquar-
ters building that is surrounded by a twelve-foot fence topped
with barbed wire, patrolled by armed guards and police
dogs, and sealed off by a security check system that guaran-
tees that no one can enter either the outer perimeter or the
building itself without showing proper identification. Each
CIA employee is issued a laminated plastic badge with his
picture on it, and these must not only be presented to the
guards on entry, but be kept constantly in view within the
building. Around the edges of the badge are twenty or so
little boxes which may or may not be filled with red letters.
' Each letter signifies a special security clearance held by the
owner. Certain offices at the CIA are designated as restricted,
and only persons holding the proper clearance, as marked
on their badges, can gain entry. These areas are usually
guarded by an agency policeman sitting inside a glass cage,
from which he controls a turnstile that forbids passage to
unauthorized personnel. Particularly sensitive offices are
protected, in addition to the guarded turnstile, by a combina-
tion or cipher lock which must be opened by the individual
after the badge is inspected.

Even a charwoman at the CIA must gain security clear-
ance in order to qualify for the badge that she, too, must
wear at all times; then she must be accompanied by an
armed guard while she cleans offices (where all classified
material has presumably already been locked up). Some
rooms at the agency are considered so secret that the char-
woman and her guard must also be watched by someone
who works in the office.

The pervasive secrecy extends everywhere. Cards placed
on agency bulletin boards offering items for sale conclude:
"Call Bill, extension 6464." Neither clandestine nor overt
CIA employees are permitted to have their last names ex-
posed to the scrutiny of their colleagues, and it was only in

234

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

1973 that employees were allowed to answer their phones
with any words other than those signifying the four-digit
extension number.

Also until recent years all CIA personnel were required to
identify themselves to non-agency people as employees of
the State or Defense department or some other outside
organization. Now the analysts and technicians are permit-
ted to say they work for the agency, although they cannot
reveal their particular office. Clandestine Service employees
are easily spotted around Washington because they almost
always claim to be employed by Defense or State, but usu-
ally are extremely vague on the details and unable to furnish
an office address. They do sometimes give out a phone
number which corresponds to the correct exchange for their
cover organization, but these extensions, through some deft
wiring, ring in Langley.

The headquarters building, located on a partially wooded
12S-acre tract eight miles from downtown Washington, is a
modernistic fortress-like structure. Until the spring of 1973
one of the two roads leading into the secluded compound
was totally unmarked, and the other featured a sign identify-
ing the installation as the Bureau of Public Roads, which
maintains the Fairbanks Highway Research Station adjacent
to the agency.

Until 1%1 the CIA had been located in a score of buildings
scattered all over Washington. One of the principal justifica-
tions for the S46 million headquarters in the suburbs was that
considerable expense would be saved by moving all employ-
ees under one roof. But in keeping with the best-laid bureau-
cratic plans, the headquarters building, from the day it was
completed, proved too small for all the CIA's Washington
activities. The agency never vacated some of its old head-
quarters buildings hidden behind a naval medical facility on
23rd Street Northwest in Washington, and its National Photo
Interpretation Center shares part of the Navy's facilities in
Southeast Washington. Other large CIA offices located down-
town include the Domestic Operations Division, on Pennsyl-
vania Avenue near the White House.

And in Washington's Virginia suburbs there are even more
CIA buildings outside the headquarters complex. An agency
training facility is located in the Broyhill Building in Arlington,
and the CIA occupies considerable other office space in that

The Clandestine Menialiry

235

county's Rosslyn section. Also at least half a dozen CIA
components are located in the Tyson's Corner area of north-
ern Virginia, which has become something of a mini-
intelligence community for technical work due to the presence
there of numerous electronics and research companies that
do work for the agency and the Pentagon.

The rapid expansion of CIA office space in the last ten
years did not happen as a result of any appreciable increase
in personnel. Rather, the technological explosion, coupled
with inevitable bureaucratic lust for new frontiers, has been
the cause. As Director, Richard Melms paid little attention
to the diffusion of his agency until one day in 1968 when a
CIA official mentioned to him that still one more technical
component was moving to Tyson's Corner. For some reason
this aroused Helms' ire. and he ordered a study prepared to
find out just how much of the agency was located outside of
headquarters. The completed report told him what most
Washington-area real-estate agents already knew, that a sub-
stantial percentage of CIA employees had vacated the build-
ing originally justified to Congress as necessary to put all
personnel under one roof. Helms decreed that all future
moves would require his personal approval, but his action
slowed the exodus only temporarily.

When the CIA headquarters buildingwas being constructed
during the late 1950s, the subcontractor responsible for put-
ting in the heating and air-conditioning system asked the
agency how many people the structure was intended to
accommodate. For security reasons, the agency refused to
tell him, and he was forced to make his own estimate based
on the building's size. The resulting heating system worked
reasonably well, while the air-conditioning was quite uneven.
After initial complaints in I96I, the contractor installed an
individual thermostat in each office, but so many agency
employees were continually readjusting their thermostats that
the system got worse. The M&S Directorate then decreed
that the thermostats could no longer be used, and each one
was sealed up. However, the M&S experts had not consid-
ered that the CIA was a clandestine agency, and that many
of its personnel had taken a "locks and picks" course while
in training. Most of the thermostats were soon unlocked and
back in operation.

At this point the CIA took the subcontractor to court to
force him to make improvements. His defense was that he

236 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

had installed the best system he could without a clear indica-
tion of how many people would occupy the building. The
CIA could not counter this reasoning and lost the decision.

Another unusual feature of the CIA headquarters is the
cafeteria. It is partitioned into a secret and an open section,
the larger part being only for agency employees, who must
show their badges to the armed guards before entering, and
the smaller being for visitors as well as people who work at
the CIA. Although the only outsiders ever to enter the
small, dismal section are employees of other U.S. govern-
ment agencies, representatives of a few friendly governments,
and CIA families, the partition ensures that no visitor will
see the face of any clandestine operator eating lunch.

TTie CIA's "supergrades" (civilian equivalents of generals)
have their own private dining room in the executive suite,
however. There they are provided higher-quality food at
lower prices than in the cafeteria, served on fine china with
fresh linens by black waiters in immaculate white coats.
These waiters and the executive cooks are regular CIA
employees, in contrast to the cafeteria personnel, who work
for a contractor. On several occasions the Office of Manage-
ment and Budget has questioned the high cost of this private
dining room, but the agency has always been able to fend off
the attacks, as it fends off almost all attacks on its activities,
by citing "national security" reasons as the major justification.

Questions of social class and snobbery have always been
very important in the CIA. With its roots in the wartime
Office of Strategic Services (the letters OSS were said, only
half-jokingly, to stand for "Oh So Social"), the agency has
long been known for its concentration of Eastern Establish-
ment, Ivy League types. Allen Dulles, a former American
diplomat and Wall Street lawyer with impeccable connec-
tions and credentials, set the tone for an agency full of
Roosevelts, Bundys, Cleveland Amory's brother Robert, and
other scions of America's leading families. There have been
exceptions, to be sure, but most of the CIA's top leaders
have been white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, and graduates of
the right Eastern schools. While changing times and ideas
have diffused the influence of the Eastern ^lite throughout
the government as a whole, the CIA remains perhaps the
last bastion in official Washington of WASP power, or at
least the slowest to adopt the principle of equal opportunity.

The Clandes'.tne Mentality

237

It was no accident that former Clandestine Services chief
Richard Bissell (Groton. Yale, A.B.. Ph.D., London School
of Economics, A.B.) was talking to a Council on Foreign
Relations discussion group in 1968 when he made his "confi-
dential" speech on covert action. For the influential but
private Council, composed of several hundred of the country's
top political, military, business, and academic leaders, has
long been the CIA's principal "constituency" in the Ameri-
can public. When the agency has needed prominent citizens
to front for its proprietary companies or for other special
assistance, it has often turned to Council members. Bissell
knew that night in 1968 that he could talk freely and openly
about extremely sensitive subjects because he was among
"friends." His words leaked out not because of the indiscre-
tion of any of the participants, but because of student up-
heavals at Harvard in 1971.

It may well have been the sons of CFR members or CIA
officials who ransacked the office housing the minutes of
Bissell's speech, and therein lies the changing nature of the
CIA (and the Eastern Establishment, for that matter). Over
the last decade the attitudes of the young people, who in
earlier times would have followed their fathers or their fathers'
college roommates into the CIA, have changed drastically.
With the Vietnam war as a catalyst, the agency has become,
to a large extent, discredited in the traditional Eastern schools
and colleges. And consequently the CIA has been forced to
alter its recruiting base. No longer do Harvard, Yale,
Princeton, and a few other Eastern schools provide the bulk
of the agency's professional recruits, or even a substantial
number.

For the most part. Ivy Leaguers do not want to join the
agency, and the CIA now does its most fruitful recruiting at the
universities of middle America and in the armed forces.
While the shift unquestionably reflects increasing democrati-
zation in American government, the CIA made the change
not so much voluntarily as because it had no other choice if
it wished to fill its ranks. If the "old boy" network cannot be
replenished, some officials believe, it will be much more
difficult to enlist the aid of American corporations and gener-
ally to make use of influential "friends" in the private and
public sectors.

Despite the comparatively recent broadening of the CIA's
recruiting base, the agency is not now and has never been an

238

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

equal-opportunity employer. The agency has one of the small-
est percentages — if not ihe smallest — of blacks of any federal
department. The CIA's top management had this forcefully
called to their attention in 1967 when . a local civil-rights
activist wrote to the agency to complain about minority
hiring practices. A study was ordered at that time, and the
CIA's highest-ranking black was found to be a GS-13 (the
rough equivalent of an Army major). Altogether, there were
fewer than twenty blacks among Ihe CIA's approximately
12,000 non-clerical employees, and even the proportion of
black secretaries, clerks, and other non-professionals was
considerably below that of most Washington:area govern-
ment agencies. One might attribute this latter fact to the
agency's suburban location, but blacks were notably well
represented in the guard and char forces.

Top officials seemed surprised by the results of the 1967
study because they did not consider themselves prejudiced
men. Tttty ordered increased efforts to hire more blacks,
but these were not particularly successful. Young black col-
lege graduates in recent years have shied away from joining
the agency, some on political grounds and others because of
the promising opportunities available in the private sector.
Furthermore, the CIA recruiting system could not easily be
changed to bring in minorities. Most of the "spotting" of
potential employees is done by individual college professors
who are either friends or consultants of the agency, and they
are located on predominantly white campuses where each year
they hand-pick a few carefully selected students for the CIA.

The paucity of minority groups in the CIA goes well
beyond blacks, however. In 1964 the agency's Inspector Gen-
eral did a routine study of the Offlce of National Estimates
(ONE). The Inspector found no black, Jewish, or women
professionals, and only a few Catholics. ONE immediately
took steps to bring in minorities. One woman professional
was hired on a probationary basis, and one black secretary
was brought in. When the professional had finished her
probation, she was encouraged to find work elsewhere, and
the black secretary was given duties away from the main
ONE offices — out of sight in the reproduction center. ONE
did bend somewhat by hiring a few Jews and some addi-
tional Catholics.

There are extremely few women in high-ranking positions
in the CIA, but, of course, the agency does employ women

The Clandestine Mentality

239

as secretaries and for other non-professional duties. As is
true with all large organizations, there is a high turnover in
these jobs, and the agency each year hires a thousand or
more new applicants. In a search for suitable candidates,
CIA recruiters concentrate on recent high-school graduates
from the mostly white small towns and cities of Virginia and
the neighboring states. Maryland, West Virginia, and Penn-
sylvania. Washington, with its overwhelming black majority,
supplies comparatively few of the CIA's secretaries. Over
the years the recruiters have established good contacts with
high-school guidance counselors and principals in the nearby
states, and when they make their annual tour in search of
candidates, interested girls are steered their way, with sev-
eral from the same class often being hired at the same time.
When the new secretaries come to CIA headquarters outside
of Washington, they are encouraged to live in agency-selected
apartments in the Virginia suburbs, buildings in which virtu-
ally all the tenants are CIA employees.

Security considerations play a large part in the agency's
lack of attention to urban areas in its secretarial recruiting.
All agency employees must receive full security clearances
before they start work. This is a very expensive process, and
women from small towns are easier and cheaper to investigate.
Moreover, the CIA seems actually to prefer secretaries with
the Ail-American image who are less likely to have been
"corrupted" or "politicized" than their urbanized sisters.

Agency secretaries, as well as all other personnel, must
pass lie-detector tests as a condition of employment. Then
they periodically — usually at five-year intervals or when they
return from overseas assignments — must submit themselves
again to the "black box." The CIA, unlike most employers,
finds out nearly everything imaginable about the private
lives of its personnel through these polygraph tests. Ques-
tions about sex, drugs, and personal honesty are routinely
asked along with security-related matters such as possible
contacts with foreign agents. The younger secretaries invaria-
bly register a negative reading on the machine when asked
the standard: "Have you ever stolen government property?"
The polygraph experts usually have to add the qualifying
clause, "not including pens, pencils, or minor clerical items."

Once CIA recruits have passed their security investiga-
tions and lie-detector tests, they are given training by the

240

The CIA ami the Cult of Intelligence

agency. Most of the secretaries receive instruction in the
Washington area, such instruction focusing on the need for
secrecy in all aspects of the work. Women going overseas to
type and file for their CIA bosses are given short courses in
espionage tradecraft. A former secretary reported that the
most notable part of her field training in the late 1960s was to
trail an instructor in and out of Washington department
stores.'

The agency's professionals, most of them (until the 1%7
NSA disclosures) recruited through "friendly" college pro-
fessors, receive much more extensive instruction when they
enter the CIA as career trainees (CTs). For two years they
are on a probationary status, the first year in formal training
programs and the second with on-the-job instruction. The
CTs take introductory courses at a CIA facility, known as
the Broyhill Building, in Arlington, Virginia, in subjects
such as security, the organization of the agency and the rest
of the intelligence community, and the nature of interna-
tional communism. Allen Dulles, in his days as Director,
liked to talk to these classes and tell them how, as an
American diplomat in Switzerland during World War I, he
received a telephone call from a Russian late on a Saturday
morning. The Russian wanted to talk to a U.S. government
representative immediately, but Dulles had a date with a
young lady, so he declined the offer. The Russian turned out
to be Nikolai Lenin, and Dulles used the incident to urge the
young CTs always to be alert to the possible importance of
people they meet in their work.

Afterward. CTs go to "The Farm." the establishment near
Williamsburg that is disguised as a Pentagon research-and-
testing facility and indeed resembles a large military reser-
vation. Barracks, offices, classrooms, and an officers' club
are grouped around a central point. Scattered over its 480
mostly wooded acres are weapons ranges, jump towers, and
a simulated closed border of a mythical communist country.
Away from these facilities are heavily guarded and off-limits
sites, locations used for super-secret projects such as debrief-
ing a recent defector, planning a special operation, or train-

*This woman's training proved useful, however, when in her first post abroad,
ostensibly as an embassy secretary, she was given the mission of surveilling an
apartment building in disguise as an Arab woman.

The Clandestine Menialiiy

241

ing an important foreign agent who will be returning to his
native country to spy for the CIA.

As part of their formal clandestine training at "The Farm,"
the CTs are regularly shown Hollywood spy movies, and
after the performance they collectively criticize the tech-
niques used in the films. Other movies are also used, as
explained by the former clandestine operator who wrote
about his experience in the April 1967 Ramparts:

We were shown Agency-produced films depicting the
CIA in action, films which displayed a kind of Holly-
wood flair for the dramatic that is not uncommon inside
the Agency. A colleague who went through a 1963 train-
ing class told of a film on the U-2 episode. In his
comments prefatory to the film, his instructor intimated
that President Eisenhower "blew his cool" when he did
not continue to deny that the U-2 was a CIA aircraft.
But no matter, said the instructor, the U-2 was in sum
an Agency triumph, for the planes had been overflying
Soviet territory for at least five years. During this time
the Soviet leaders had fumed in frustration, unable to
bring down a U-2 on the one hand, and reluctant to let
the world -know of their inability on the other. The
photography contained in the film confirmed that the
"flying cameras" had accomplished a remarkable job of
reconnaissance. When the film ended and the lights
came on, the instructor gestured toward the back of the
room and announced: "Gentlemen, the hero of our
film." There stood Francis Gary Powers. The trainees
rose and applauded.

All the CTs receive some light-weapons training, and those
destined for paramilitary duties receive a full course which
includes instruction in explosives and demolition, parachute
jumps, air and sea operations, and artillery training. This
paramilitary training is also taken by the contract soldiers
(who greatly resent being called "mercenaries") who have
been separately recruited for special operations. They join the
CTs for some of the other courses but generally tend to avoid
the younger and less experienced recent college graduates who
make up the bulk of the CT ranks. Many of these mercenar-
ies and a few of the CTs continue on for an advanced course

242

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

in explosives and heavy weapons given at a CIA training
facility in North Carolina. Postgraduate training in paramilitary
operations is conducted at Fort Bragg in North Carolina and
at Fort Gulick in the Panama Canal Zone.

Fringe Benefits

Although agency personnel hold the same ratings and re-
ceive the same salaries as other government employees, they
do not fall under Civil Service jurisdiction. The Director has
the authority to hire or fire an employee without any regard
to normal governmental regulations, and there is no legal
appeal to his decisions. In general, however, it is the CIA's
practice to take extremely good care of the people who
remain loyal to the organization. There is a strong feeling
among agency management officials that they must concern
themselves with the welfare of all personnel, and this feeling
goes well beyond the normal employer-employee relation-
ship in the government or in private industry. To a certain
extent, security considerations dictate this attitude on the
part of management, since an unhappy or financially inse-
cure employee can become a potential target for a foreign
espionage agent. But there is more to it than that. Nearly
everyone seems to believe: We're all in this together and
anyone who's on the team should be taken care of decently.
The employees probably feel a higher loyalty to the CIA
than members of almost any other agency feel for their
organization. Again, this is good for security, but that makes
the sentiments no less real.

Some of the benefits for agency personnel are unique in
the federal bureaucracy. For example, the CIA operates a
summer intern program for college students. Unlike other
government agencies which have tried to hire disadvantaged
and minority youngsters, the CIA's program is only for the
sons and daughters of agency employees. Again the justifica-
tion is security and the expense of clearing outsiders, but it is
a somewhat dubious claim since the State Department man-
ages to clear all its interns for "top secret" without signifi-
cant expense or danger to security.

If a CIA employee dies, an agency security officer immedi-
ately goes to his or her house to see that everything is in
order for the survivors (and, not incidentally, to make sure

The Clandestine Mentality

243

no CIA documents have been taken home from the office).
If the individual has been living under a cover identity, the
security officer ensures that the cover does not fall apart
with the death. Often the security man will even help with
the funeral and burial arrangements.

For banking activities, CIA employees are encouraged to
use the agency's own credit union, which is located in the
headquarters building. The union is expert in giving loans to
clandestine operators under cover, whose personal-background
statements are by definition false. In the rare instance. when
an employee forfeits on a loan, the credit union seldom
prosecutes to get back the money: that could be a breach of
security. Tliere is also a special fund, supported by annual
contributions from agency officers, to help fellow employees
who accidentally get into financial trouble.

The credit union also makes various kinds of insurance
available to CIA employees. Since the agency does not wish
to give outsiders any biographical information on its personnel,
the CIA provides the insurer with none of that data that
insurance companies normally demand, except age and size
of policy. The agency certifies that all facts are true — even
that a particular employee has died — without offering any
proof. Blue Cross, which originally had the agency's health-
insurance policy, demanded too much information for the
agency's liking, and in the late 19S0s the CIA switched its
account to the more tolerant Mutual of Omaha. Agency
employees are even instructed not to use the airplane-crash
insurance machines available at airports, but to purchase
such insurance from the credit union.

Attempts are made even to regulate the extracurricular
activities of agency employees — to reinforce their attach-
ment to the organization and, of course, for security reasons.
An employee-activity association (incorporated for legal
purposes) sponsors programs in everything from sports and
art to slimnastics and karate. The association also runs a
recreational travel service, a sports and theater ticket service,
and a discount sales store. The CIA runs its own training
programs for reserve military officers, too. And it has ar-
ranged with local universities to have its own officers teach
college-level and graduate courses for credit to its employ-
ees in the security of its headquarters building.

The CIA can be engagingly paternal in other ways, too.

244

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

On the whole, it is quite tolerant of sexual dalliance among
its employees, as long as the relationships are heterosexual
and not with enemy spies. In fact, the CIA's medical office
in Suigon was known during the late 1960s for its no-questions-
asked cures of venereal disease, while State Department
officers in that city avoided the embassy clinic for the same
malady because they feared the consequences to their ca-
reers of having VD listed on their personnel records.

In many other ways the CIA keeps close watch over its
employees' health. If a CIA officer gets sick, he can go to an
agency doctor or a "cleared" outside physician. If he
undergoes surgery, he frequently is accompanied into the
operating room by a CIA security man who makes sure that
no secrets are revealed under sodium-pcntathol anesthesia.
If he has a mental breakdown, he is required to be treated
by an agency psychiatrist (or a cleared contact on the outside)
or, in an extreme case, to be admitted to a CIA-sanctioned
sanitarium. Although no statistics are available, mental break-
downs seem more common in the agency's tension-laden
atmosphere than in the population as a whole, and the CIA
tends to have a more tolerant attitude toward mental-health
problems and psychiatric therapy than the general public. In
the Clandestine Services, breakdowns are considered virtu-
ally normal work hazards, and employees are encouraged to
return to work after they have completed treatment. Usually
no stigma is attached to illness of (his type; in fact, a number
of senior officers suffered breakdowns while they were in the
Clandestine Services and it clearly did not hurt their careers.
Ex-Clandestine Services chief Frank Wisner had such an
illness, and he later returned to work as the CIA station
chief in London.

Many agency officials are known for their heavy drinking —
which also seems to be looked upon as an occupational
hazard. Again, the CIA is more sympathetic to drinking
problems than outside organizations. Drug use, however,
remains absolutely taboo.

While the personnel policies and benefits extended by the
CIA to its employees can be justified on the grounds of
national security and the need to develop organizational
loyalty, these tend to have something of a personal debilitat-
ing effect on the career officers. The agency is unconsciously
viewed as an omniscient, omnipotent institution — one that

The Clandestine Mentality

245

can even be considered infallible. Devotion to duty grows
to fantacism; questioning the decisions of the authorities is
tantamount to religious blasphemy. Such circumstances en-
courage bureaucratic insulation and introversion (especially
under strong pressures from the outside), and they even
promote a perverse, defensive attitude which restricts the
individual from keeping pace with significant social events
occurring in one's own nation — to say nothing of those evolv-
ing abroad. Instead of continuing to develop vision and
sensitivity with regard to their professional activities, the
career officers become unthinking bureaucrats concerned
only with their own comfort and security, which they achieve
by catering to the demands of the existing political and
institutional leaderships — those groups which can provide
the means for such personal ends.

Secret Writings

A number of years ago the CIA established a secret histori-
cal library, later a secret internal professional journal, and
ultimately began the preparation of the exhaustive secret
history of the agency, being written by retired senior officers.

The Historical Intelligence Collection, as the special li-
brary is officially known in the CIA, is a fascinating library
of spy literature, containing thousands of volumes, fiction
and non-fiction, in many languages. The curator, a senior
career officer by trade but by avocation a bibliophile of
some note, is annually allocated a handsome budget to travel
around the world in search of rare books and documents on
espionage. Through his efforts, the CIA today possesses
probably the most complete compilation of such publications
in the world. In recent years the collection has been ex-
panded to include intelligence memorabilia, featuring exhib-
its of invisible inks, bugs, cameras, and other equipment
actually used in certain operations by spies or their handlers.

The CIA's own quarterly trade journal is called Studies in
Intelligence. Articles in recent years have dealt with subjects
ranging from the practical to the theoretical: there have
been articles on how to react when undergoing enemy
interrogation; how the National Estimate process works;
how to covertly infiltrate and exfiltrate heavily guarded en-
emy borders. After the Cuban missile crisis the journal ran a

246

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

debate on whether the CIA had failed to detect the Soviet
missiles early enough or had succeeded in time to allow the
government to take remedial action.

Some articles are of pure historical interest. In 1970 there
was a fascinating account of the successful efforts at the end
of World War II of the couturier Count Emilio Pucci, then
in the Italian army, to keep out of German hands the diary
of Mussolini's Foreign Minister (and son-in-law) Count Ciano,
who had earlier been executed by the Duce. Presumably
stories of this kind would be of interest to ordinary citizens
but Studies in Intelligence, while bearing a physical resem-
blance to many regularly published magazines, is different in
one important respect. It is stamped secret and is therefore
available only to CIA employees and a few selected readers
elsewhere in the intelligence community. Even its regular
reviews of current spy novels are withheld from the Ameri-
can public.

The most important of the CIA's private literary projects
is the massive secret history of the agency that has been
in preparation since 1967. Recognizing the irresistible ten-
dency of former intelligence officers to write their memoirs
and, thereby, often to embarrass their organizations and
their government with their revelations, Director Helms
prudently agreed to permit the preparation of an official
secret history of the CIA and its clandestine activities. A
professor of history from a Midwestern university was
hired to act as coordinator and as a literary/research advisor
to those officers who would participate in the project.
Retired senior officials were rehired on contract at their
former salaries to spend a couple of additional years with
the agency pulling their recollections down on paper for
eventual incorporation in the encyclopedic summary of the
CIA's past.

Helms' decision was a master stroke. The history will
never be completed, nor will it ever be published. By defini-
tion it is a perpetual project and one that can be read
only by those who have a clear "need to know" — and they
are few indeed. But the writers, the battle-scarred old
hands, have gotten their frustrations out of their systems —
with no harm done — and they have been paid, well paid,
for their efforts. (Probably better than they could have been
had they gone public.) As for the CIA, it, too, is content

The Clandestine Mentality

247

with the arrangement; for it is its arrangement, a pact
made among friends and colleagues, one that conveniently
shuts out the primary enemy of those possessed of the
clandestine mentality — the public.

9.

INTELLIGENCE AND POLICY

Policy must be based on ihe best estimate of the
facts which can be put together. That estimate in
turn should be given by some agency which has no
axes to grind and which itself is not wedded to any
particular policy.

— ALLEN DULLES

Workmen had already started to put the White House Christ-
mas decorations in place on a December day in 1969 when
the President met in the Cabinet room with the National
Security Council. The purpose of the session was to decide
what American policy should be toward the governments of
southern Africa, Ever since Henry Kissinger had sent a Na-
tional Security Study Memorandum (NSC 39) out to the
interested parts of the federal government the previous April,
bureaucrats had been writing position papers to prepare
their chiefs for this meeting. There was sharp disagreement
within the government on how hard a line the United States
should take with the white-minority regimes of South Africa,
Rhodesia, and the Portuguese colonies in Africa. Now the
time for decision-making was at hand, and those present
included the Vice President, the secretaries of State and
Defense, the under secretaries of State and Commerce, the
Director of Central Intelligence, a representative of the Na-
tional Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), the
Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, and
the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.*

The President opened the session by stating that the
NSC had before it some very complex problems — complex
not only in the usual foreign-policy sense but also in

'Admiral Thomas Moorcr. the newly named Chairman of Ihe JCS, was
attending his first NSC meeting in this capacity. The President noted the
occasion by introducing him to all assembled as "Admiral Mormon."

Intelligence and Policy

249

a moral context which, the President noted, concerned a
large portion of the American population. Nixon then
turned to his DCI, Richard Helms, and said, "Go ahead,
Dick."

The NSC meeting had officially begun, and, as was
customary. Helms set the scene by giving a detailed briefing
on the political and economic background of the countries
under discussion. Using charts and maps carried in by an
aide, he described recent developments in southern Africa.
(His otherwise flawless performance was marred only by his
mispronunciation of "Malagasy" Iformerly Madagascar), when
referring to the young republic.)

Next, Henry Kissinger talked about the kind of general
posture the United States could maintain toward the white
regimes and outlined the specific policy options open to the
President. In the case of South Africa, the two operational
questions were whether to allow visits by U.S. Navy ships
(which were eventually turned down) and whether to close
that country's American space tracking facilities at which
apartheid, or racial segregation, was practiced (they were
permitted to slay open at the strong urging of NASA). For the
Portuguese colonies, the problems were whether to grant
Export-Import Bank credits (these were largely approved) and
whether to continue the embargo on the shipment of U.S. arms
(which the CIA itself had violated four years before in helping
to transport American B-26 bombers to Portugal. This time,
the President decided not to lift the embargo.)

Kissinger continued, stating that the two questions concern-
ing Rhodesia were whether to make an exception to the then
existing ban on the importation of Rhodesian chrome for the
benefit of Union Carbide which claimed to have paid for a
large quantity before the embargo had gone into effect (the
President later approved this exception) and whether to close
the American consulate in the Rhodesian capital of Salisbury.
This last matter was quite important since Rhodesia had in
1965 unilaterally declared its independence from Great Brit-
ain and earlier in 1969 had broken all constitutional ties by
declaring itself a republic. The continuing presence of the U.S.
consulate under these circumstances provided some measure
of recognition to the rebel government while being a source of
criticism in the United Nations and among liberal and black
Americans.

250 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

The various NSC members gave their department's point of
view about the different problems.' . . . the United States
to do so. To what extent Helms' arguments played a part
in the presidential decision can be answered only by Richard
Nixon himself. But, the following year, at the request of
the British, the United States did end its

10 LINES DELETED

was such an established factor that it was not even under
review at the NSC meeting.

It was quite extraordinary for Helms to speak out to the
NSC about the detrimental effect his agency would suffer
if the ( DELETED ) since

the DCI's normal role at these 'sessions is limited to provid-
ing the introductory background briefing. As the President's
principal intelligence advisor, his function is to supply the
facts and the intelligence community's best estimate of fu-
ture events in order to help the decision-makers in their
work. What Helms was saying to the NSC was entirely
factual, but it had the effect of injecting intelligence opera-
tions into a policy decision. In theory at least, the decision-
makers are supposed to be able to choose the most ad-
vantageous options with the benefit of intelligence — not for
the benefit of intelligence.

Analysis v. Operations

Many, but by no means all, intelligence professionals agree
that the primary and, indeed, paramount purpose of the
intelligence process is to produce meaningful, timely informa-
tion on foreign developments after a careful analysis of
secret and open sources. The finished product should be

*Soine of the slatemenls were quite revealing. Early in the meeting Secrrtar^f
of State William Rogers jokingly pointed out. to general laughter in the room,
that it might be inappropriate for the group to discuss the subject at hand,
since some of those present had represented southern African clients in
earlier law practices. Vice President Spiro Agnew gave an impassioned speech
on how the South Africans, now that they had recently declared their
independence, were not about to be pushed around, and he went on to
compare South Africa to the United Stales in its infant days. Finally, the
President leaned over to Agnew and said gently, "You mean Rhodesia, don't
you. Ted?"

Intelligence and Policy

251

balanced in perspective and objective in presentation. Under
no circumstances is intelligence supposed to advise a particu-
lar course of action. The intelligence function, when prop-
erly performed, is strictly an informational service.

This is the theory, but in actual practice the U.S. intelli-
gence community has deeply intruded — and continues to —
into the policy-making arena. Perhaps it is unrealistic to
expect that a $6 billion activity with more than 150,000 em-
ployees working in over 100 countries would do otherwise.
Nevertheless, it should be understood that when someone
like Richard Helms publicly declares, as he did in 1971, "We
make no foreign policy," he may be technically correct in
the sense that CIA officials must receive approval from the
White House for their main programs; but he is absolutely
incorrect in leaving the impression that the intelligence
community, apart from supplying information, does not have
a profound determinative effect on the formulation and car-
rying out of American foreign policy.

The very existence of the CIA as an instrument for secret
intervention in other countries' internal affairs changes the
way the nation's highest leaders look at the world. They
know that if open political or economic initiatives fail, they
can call on the CIA to bail them out. One suspects that the
Eisenhower administration might have made more of an
effort during its last ten months to prevent relations with
Cuba from reaching the breaking point if the President had
not already given his approval to the clandestine training of
a refugee army to overthrow the Castro regime.

The extreme secrecy in which the CIA works increases the
chances that a President will call it into action. He does not
have to justify the agency's activities to Congress, the press,
or the American people, so, barring premature disclosure,
there is no institutional force within the United States to
stop him from doing what he wants. Furthermore, the se-
crecy of CIA operations allows a President to authorize
actions in other countries which, if conducted openly, would
brand the United States as an outlaw nation. International
law and the United Nations charter clearly prohibit one
country from interfering in the internal affairs of another,
but if the interference is done by a clandestine agency
whose operations cannot readily be traced back to the United
States, then a President has a much freer hand. He does not
even have to worry about adverse public reaction at home or

252

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

abroad. For example, after Salvador Allende had been elected
President of Chile in 1970, President Nixon was asked at a
press conference why the United States was willing to inter-
vene militarily in Vietnam to prevent a communist takeover
but would not do the same thing in Chile to prevent a
Marxist from taking power; he replied that "for the United
States to have intervened in a free election and to have
turned it around, I think, would have had repercussions all
around Latin America that would have been far worse than
what happened in Chile." The President failed to mention
that he had approved CIA covert action programs costing
$400,000 to stop Allende, but by keeping his action secret, he
was able to avoid — at least for the time being — the "adverse
political reaction" which he feared. If there had been no
CIA to do the job covertly, the U.S. government almost
certainly would not have tried to involve itself in the Chilean
elections, since it was obviously not willing to own up to its
actions.

Clandestine operations can appear to a President as a
panacea, as a way of pulling the chestnuts out of the fire
without going through all the effort and aggravation of tortu-
ous diplomatic negotiations. And if the CIA is somehow
caught in the act, the "deniability" of these operations, in
theory, saves a President from taking any responsibility — or
blame. Additionally, the CIA is equipped to act quickly in a
crisis. It is not hindered nearly as much by a cumbersome
bureaucracy as is the Pentagon, and it has proved its ability
to move with little advance notice, as it did in the Congo
during the early 1960s, to put an "instant air force" into
action. And the agency's field personnel do not demand the
support facilities of their military colleagues. In Laos forty
or fifty career CIA officers assisted by several hundred
contractees ran an entire "secret war," whereas the Pentagon,
given the same mission, probably would have set up a military-
assistance command with thousands of personnel (as it did in
Vietnam), at a much greater cost to the United States. Also,
CIA operators are much less likely than the military to
grouse publicly that political restrictions are forcing them to
fight "with one arm tied behind our back," and this makes
the agency attractive to a President who has no desire to
engage in a running battle with his generals over the tactics
to be used in a particular situation.

Intelligence and Policy

253

The CIA does not originate an American commitment to
a country. The President and the State Department do that.
But once CIA operations are started in a foreign land, the
U.S. stake in that nation's future increases. Certainly the
American interest would be even larger if the President
decided to send in combat troops instead of his covert warriors,
but such open intervention would h<^ve to be justiTied publicly.
In the 1950s and early 1960s neither President Eisenhower nor
President Kennedy wanted to make such a commitment in
Vietnam or Laos. Yet, by using foreign aid funds and heavy
doses of covert operations, they were able to create and then
keep alive anti-communist governments in both countries.
When these palliatives proved insufficient later in the 1960s,
President Johnson chose to send American ground troops
into Vietnam iind to begin the systematic bombing of Laos
by the U.S. Air Force. It might be argued that the CIA's
covert operations put off the day when more massive amounts
of American power would be needed, but it also might be said
that if the agency had not managed to keep the governments
in Saigon and Vientiane functioning for such a long time,
the United States would never have intervened openly at all.

In neither Vietnam nor Laos was the CIA acting without
the approval of the nation's highest policy-makers. Indeed,
all the agency's major covert-action operations are approved
by the 40 Committee, and the President himself closely re-
views this committee's decisions. But even approved clandes-
tine activities have a way of taking on a life of their own, as
field operatives loosely interpret the general guidelines that
comedown from the White House through Langley. By not
closely supervising CIA covert operations, the nation's high-
est leaders have allowed the agency to affect foreign policy
profoundly. For example, during the CIA revolt against the
leftist Guatemalan regime in 1954, an agency plane bombed a
British freighter which was suspected of carrying arms to the
embattled government troops. In fact the ship was loaded
with coffee and cotton, and, fortunately, no one was injured
when only one of the bombs exploded. Richard Bissell admit-
ted to the New York Times on April 28, 1966, that the attack
on the British vessel was a "sub-incident" that "went beyond
the established limits of policy." Bissell continued, "You
can't take on operations of this scope, draw boundaries of
policy around them and be absolutely sure that those bound-
aries will not be overstenned."

254

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

The CIA got involved in another "sub-incident" while it
was training Cuban exiles at secret bases in Guatemala for
an invasion of their homeland. In November 1960 a rebellion
broke out against the Guatemalan government which had
been so gracious in allowing the agency to use its territory as
the jumping-off point for the Cuban operation. The CIA
returned the favor by sending its B-26 bombers to help crush
the insurgency. It is not clear whether White House permis-
sion was given for these attacks, but there was no question
that the CIA had again interfered in Guatemalan internal
politics — this time to make sure that no new Guatemalan
government would oust it from its secret bases. Once
embarked on the attempt to overthrow Castro, the agency
had become involved in a chain of events which forced it to
intervene militarily in a second country to protect its opera-
tion against Cuba. The President may have set the original
policy, but there was no way he could have known that
Mmply by approving an attack on Cuba he would set in
motion agency paramilitary activities against Guatemala.

CIA operations can have another unforeseen effect on
American foreign policy: they can subject the country to
blackmail if something goes wrong. For instance, within five
days after the CIA pilot was shot down and captured by
Indonesia in 1958. the U.S. government approved the sale for
local currency of 37,000 tons of American rice and lifted an
embargo on Si million in small arms and other military
equipment. Considering that at that moment the CIA was
actively backing an aimed revolution against the Sukarno
regime, these would have been strange actions indeed for the
U.S. government to take if it were not extremely concerned
about saving the captured pilot.

A somewhat similar incident occurred in Singapore in 1960
after a CIA lie-detector expert was flown into the city to
make sure that a locally recruited agent was trustworthy.
When the agency technician plugged in his polygraph ma-
chine in a hotel room, he blew out all the fuses in the
building. ' The lie-detector man, a CIA case officer, and the
local agent were soon under arrest. The Singapore govern-

• This was not the only time that the CIA blew major fuses overseas. During . . .
the Agency added to its . . . facilities on Taiwan by building a . . installation
for . . When the device was turned on for the first time, it knocked out a targe
part of the island's power. In this case, the local government reacted in a much
more friendly manner than did Singapore's. . . .

Intelligence and Policy

255

ment and the British, who were in the process of granting
Singapore its independence, were both disturbed by the
incident. Negotiations then ensued to secure the men's release.
According to Singapore Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, the
U.S. government offered $3.3 million to get them out. Lee
claimed that he wanted ten times as much and consequently
took nothing. In any case, the two CIA officials were subse-
quently freed, and the newly installed Secretary of State, Dean
Rusk, wrote a secret letter of apology to the Singapore leader.
In a 1965 speech Lee mentioned the affair as an example of
the type of activity engaged in by the CIA. The State Depart-
ment issued a routine denial furnished by the CIA — State's
press office not realizing the truth of Lee's charges. Lee
reacted by publicly producing Rusk's le.tter of apology, and
State was forced to retract its original statement, although it
still maintained that no ransom had ever been offered. As well
as embarrassing the U.S. government and making headlines
around the world, the incident caused the State Department
to revamp its internal system for making announcements
about intelligence matters. The CIA had a major interest in
the matter, since it operated a Foreign Broadcast Information
Service (FBIS) listening post there, (DELETED)

In general the presence of American intelligence facilities
in a foreign country can have an important effect on Ameri-
can policy toward that country, especially in the Third World.
Closely aligned countries, such as

4 LINES DELETED

But to the less developed countries, the presence of an
American installation is both a threat and an opportunity.
The threat comes from domestic opposition forces who look
on the base as an example of "neo-colonialism" and use it as
a weapon against those in power. The opportunity arises out
of the fact that the United States will pay dearly for the right
to install its eavesdropping equipment and keep it in place — as
( DELETED ) discovered.

3Vi LINES DELETED

Both host governments have been severely criticized by inter-
nal forces and neighboring countries for giving the United
States a foothold in their nations, but both have been hand-

256

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

somely rewarded in American military and economic assis-
tance well into the hundreds of millions of dollars. While
comparatively modest amounts of aid would probably have
been supplied even if there had been no bases, the large size
of the programs represented, in effect, a direct payment for
the intelligence facilities.

Similarly, from 1956 until the end of 1969 the U.S. Air
Force operated a huge base near Peshawar in Pakistan which
was primarily an intelligence facility. For several years be-
fore Francis Gary Powers' abortive flight over the Soviet
Union in 1960, the CIA's U-2 planes used Peshawar as a
principal takeoff point for reconnaissance flights over and
along the edges of the Soviet Union, In addition,

3 LINES DELETED

From the early days of the Eisenhower administration, the
United States had allied itself more closely with Pakistan
than with India in those two countries' continuing struggle.
Yet at least some experts on the region believe that an
important factor in the American "tilt" toward Pakistan, at
least until the late 1960s, was the desire to hold on to the
base at Peshawar.

Another site of large American technical espionage instal-
lations is the island of Taiwan. In this instance the United
States did not have to provide the Nationalist Chinese gov-
ernment with much inducement to allow the construction of
the facilities, since they were aimed against the Nationalists'
archenemy on the mainland and some of the information
gathered was shared with the Chiang Kai-shek government.
Furthermore, in the fifteen or so years after the Nationalists'
expulsion from China, the CIA closely cooperated with
Chiang's intelligence service to run covert missions against
the mainland, and the Nationalists were so dependent on the
United States for their very existence that they were in no
position to extract a large payment from the United States
for the intelligence bases. Yet, by giving the CIA and the
other agencies a free hand to build virtually any kind of
facility they chose, the Chiang government made it much
more difficult for the United States to disengage from Tai-
wan and build better relations with China. Many of the most
important installations for the surveillance of the mainland
are located on the island, and they represent an investment

Intelligence and Policy

257

valued in the hundreds of millions of dollars. All American
military forces, including those engaged in intelligence work,
will have to be removed from Taiwan before the United
States meets the Chinese conditions for complete normaliza-
tion of relations between the two countries.

Recent history is full of other examples of technical espio-
nage programs having a profound effect on U.S. foreign
policy. TTie shoot-down of the U-2 over the Soviet Union in
1960 caused the cancellation of the Eisenhower-Khrushchev
summit meeting. The spy ship Liberty, while trying to moni-
tor the action during the 1967 Six Day War, moved in too
close (because a "warning" message from Washington was
misrouted) and was shot up by Israeli planes and boats.
Thirty-four Americans were killed As a result, according to
former DIA and CIA staffer Patrick McGarvey in his book
CIA: The Myth and the Madness, the Joint Chiefs of Staff
"proposed a quick, retaliatory air strike on the Israeli naval
base which launched the attack." TTie Chiefs' recommenda-
tion was turned down. McGarvey continues:

The next year the North Koreans seized a similar ship,
the Pueblo, and interned its crew. Again we were on
the brink of war because of intelligence, the supposed
secret arm of government. The JCS again recommended
an air strike. The Pueblo incident was followed by the
shoot-down of a United States reconnaissance plane [a
Navy EC-121] off the coast of North Korea a little over a
year later. And again JCS wanted to mount an air strike.

There have been other disastrous reconnaissance flights —
those over China — that have gone virtually unreported in the
American press. Some of these have been mentioned by the
New China News Agency, but have apparently been dis-
missed in the West as communist propaganda. They include
the shooting down of several CIA U-2 planes flown by
Nationalist pilots and even more U.S. Air Force pilotless
"drone" aircraft (the Chinese claim nineteen downed be-
tween 1964 and 1969) over the Chinese mainland. American
SR-71s also flew regularly over China (and continue to do so
over North Korea) until all reconnaissance flights were stopped
as a result of Henry Kissinger's first trip to Peking in 1971.

At the very time in October 1969 when the United States
was trying to resume diplomatic contact with the Chinese,

258

The CIA and the Cull of liUflligence

Air Force Intelligence, with Ihc approval of die 40 Commiltee,

sent a drone over southern China. On October 28 the New
China News Agency reported the downing of "a U.S.
imperialist, pilotless. high altitude plane," but

7 LINES DELETED

Another extremely provocative drone flight was proposed
by the Pentagon in the period after the American invasion of
Cambodia in 1970. The mission was approved by the 40
Commitlee over the iitrong objections of tiic State Department
which estimated that roughly one in three of these aircraft
would be shot down.

12 LINES DELETED

The official justification for all the espionage missions
carried out by intelligence planes and ships is to gather
intelligence which helps to protect the national security of
the United States. But with literally hundreds of flights and
cruises scheduled each month along the borders of and over
unfriendly countries, inevitably there are embarrassing failures.
That these abortive missions on occasion cause international
crises is understood by the policy-makers who rather rou-
tinely give their approval, and is presumably figured in as
one of the costs of acquiring the intelligence. Yet it is fright-
ening to realize that some of these spying forays could have
led — and could in the future lead — to armed conflict. Mis-
sions that violate the territorial integrity of foreign countries
are clear violations of sovereignty, and any country that
shoots at an intruder inside its borders is completely within
its legal rights.

While Allen Dulles professed to believe that U.S. foreign
policy should be based on intelligence estimates developed
by an agency with "no axes to grind and . . . itself . . . not
wedded to any particular policy," his actions were not al-
ways true to these words. Consequently, he made possible the
Bay of Pigs — the classic case of what can happen when intelli-
gence is misused in the carrying out of a clandestine operation.

The problem started on the eve of Fidel Castro's trium-
phant march into Havana in January 1959 while CIA analysts
were preparing a report for the White House stating that the

Intelligence and Policy

259

rebels' success was due largely to the corruption of the
Batista regime and the resulting popular disgust among the
Cuban people. Allen Dulles personally intervened in the
intelligence process and rewrote this report to suit his own
political biases. In Dulles' view, Castro's victory was not a
natural development that could have been expected in light
of the faults of Batista. Dulles' Calvinistic mind may well
have seen the hand of the Devil at work, and he predicted
that there would be a slaughter in Havana which would put
the French Revolution to shame. "Blood will flow in the
streets," he wrote passionately in the CIA report to the
White House.

For the most part, however, the agency's analysts took a
more moderate tone in the months that followed. TTiey
stressed that Castro's Cuba, while something of an annoyance,
was in no way a direct threat to the security of the United
States. l~he Intelligence Directorate also tried to explain that
Castro, despite his socialistic leanings, was Fiercely indepen-
dent and a devout nationalist, much like Indonesia's Sukarno,
Egypt's Nasser, and Ghana's Nkrumah — all opponents of
Western domination of the Third World but certainly not
agents of any international communist conspiracy. Most im-
portant for future events, the analysts wrote that, regardless
of the emotional reports flowing from Cuban refugees con-
cerning political unrest on the island, Castro appeared to
have the general support of the populace.

Dulles did not accept this finding of his intelligence analysts,
nor did he promote their point of view at the White House.
Instead, he seized upon the reporting of the Clandestine
Services as more truly reflective of events in Cuba. Dulles
had always believed that the field operator was a more
reliable judge of events than the intelligence analyst back at
headquarters. Prior to Castro's takeover, there had not even
been a full-time CIA analyst of Cuban problems in the
Intelligence Directorate, and the two that were added after
January 1959 never really won Dulles' trust. He preferred to
read the assessments of the Clandestine Services' officers,
who did their own evaluation of the clandestine reports
received from secret agents.

Sometime during late 1959 Dulles decided that the best
solution for the Cuban problem would be to invade Cuba
with an army of Cuban refugees and to overthrow Castro.
He was unquestionably influenced by the reports of the

260 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

Clandestine Services, which, unlike those of the Intelligence
Directorate, stressed the unpopularity of the Castro regime,
its internal frictions, and its economic troubles. In March
1960, President Eisenhower, at Dulles' urging and with Dulles'
facts at hand, gave his approval for the CIA to start recruit-
ing and training the ill-fated invasion force. Robert Amory,
the Deputy Director of Intelligence, was never officially told
that the invasion was in the works so that his experts could
analyze the chances of success. Dulles was convinced that
Cuba was ripe for an invasion, and as he was the President's
chief intelligence advisor, that was that.

When the CIA's military force failed to topple Castro in
the spring of 1961, the agency's Intelligence Directorate tem-
porarily gained equal footing with the Clandestine Services.
This did not occur because there was any newfound apprecia-
tion of the analysts' work but rather because the operators
were in a general state of disgrace after the Bay of Pigs.
John McCone took over as Director in November 1961, and
after rising above his initial distrust of the entire organization,
he ultimately saw the need for and the value of high-quality
national intelligence.

Severtheless, the Clandestine Services, having consolidated
their anti-Castro operations into a Cuban Task Force combin-
ing paramilitary, covert action, propaganda, and espionage
activities in one office, continued secretly to attack the Ha-
vana regime, using, as in the past, commando teams made up
of Cuban refugees.* Castro, whose secret agents had pene-
trated the CIA's operations long before the Bay of Pigs,
knew perfectly well what the CIA was doing, and the ongo-

'Assassinatinn of Casirn seemed lo have been a recurrent idea in Ihc CIA
during ihcsc year^. E. Howard Hum claims lo have recommended it before
the Bay of Pigs, only to be turned down in November President
Kennedy mentioned the idea in a private chat «'iih Tad Szulc. then of the
Ne*' York Times. Kennedy asked the newsman, "How would you feel if the
United Slates assassinated Castro?" When Szulc said he thought it was a very
poor idea. Kennedy said. "I'm glad you feel thai way because suggestions lo
thai effect keep coming lo me. and I believe very sirongly the United Stales
should not he a party lo political assassination." Lyndon Johnson lold his
former aide Leo }anm, as recounted in a July 1973 Allamic arlicle. "We had
been operating a damned Murder. Inc in the Caribbean." Janos elaborated.
"A year or so before Kennedy's death a CIA-backed assassination team had
been picked up in Havana. Johnson speculated thai Dallas had been a retaliation
for this thwarted attempt, although he couldn't prove it."

Intelligence and Policy

261

ing American attacks against his rule may well have been an
important factor in his decision in the spring of 1%2 to allow
the Soviet Union to install offensive nuclear weapons in his
country.

The Cuban missile crisis that developed as a result pro-
duced one of the finest hours for the CIA and the intelli-
gence community, although the last National Intelligence
Estimate, prepared by the CIA a little over a month before
President Kennedy went on nationwide television to an-
nounce the Cuban "quarantine," declared that it was un-
likely that the Soviets would install nuclear-tipped missiles
on the island. The fact remains, however, that the CIA and
the other intelligence agencies did discover the Soviet mis-
siles in time for the President to take action, and they
presented the facts to Kennedy with no policy recommenda-
tions or slanting which could have limited his options. This
was how the intelligence process was supposed to work.

The affair started in the late spring of 1962 when CIA
analysts noted that the Soviets were sending an increased
amount of military assistance to Cuba. These shipments
were not viewed with particular alarm in the agency, since
there was still much to be done in the Soviet re-equipping of
the Cuban army forces, which was then under way. Further-
more, the CIA had ways of keeping track of what arms
flowed into Cuba.

Since January 1961, when the Eisenhower administration
had broken diplomatic relations with the Castro regime,
there had been no agency operators working out of an
American embassy in Havana, but the

5 LINES DELETED

Additionally, a steady flow of refugees was arriving in Mi-
ami and being debriefed by agency officers permanently
assigned there. As was true before the Bay of Pigs, the
stories told by many of these refugees were hysterical but
occasionally some valuable nugget of information would be
gleaned from their tales.

Based on President Kennedy's request, the USIB had set
Cuba as a Priority National Intelligence Objective (PNIO),
and the various military intelligence agencies had been as-
signed extensive collection requirements by the USIB. New
requirements were almost continually levied in response to

262

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

the specific needs of the analysts. The Air Force and the
Navy carefully watched the shipping lanes and photographed
Soviet ships destined for Cuba. Surveillance was provided by
the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean, by the Atlantic fleet
(which even had a listening post at Guantanamo Bay inside
Cuba), and by the Air Force. U.S. intelligence photographed
ship movements and listened in electronically on Cuban
communications. TTie National Security Agency tuned its
huge antennae in on Soviet shipping and Cuban communi-
cations. ITT had operated much of the Cuban communica-
tions system before Castro's nationalizations, and the com-
pany worked closely with the CIA and NSA to intercept
messages. Much of the old equipment was still in use, and
the NSA was collecting large amounts of information. Finally,
the CIA was flying two U-2 missions each month over Cuba,
and the photographs taken by these spy planes were quickly
turned over to the analysts.

So while Soviet military (and economic) assistance to Cas-
tro was on the upswing in the late spring of 1962, there
seemed little cause for alarm in the CIA or elsewhere in the
U.S. government. Moscow had recently eased tensions in
Berlin, much to the relief of Washington policy-makers,
whose strong stand in that divided city appeared to have
paid off. But still there were a few ominous signs. The CIA
leanicd that Soviet mflilary penMMinel were being secretly used
in combat roles as submarine crews in Indonesia and as
bomber crews in Yemen, a drastic departure from previous
Soviet practice. Then, by July the analysts noted further
increases in the arms being shipped to Cuba, along with the
arrival of a large number of young men from the Soviet
Union — who Moscow claimed were technical advisors to
assist in economic development programs. TTie CIA doubted
this, for, among other reasons, all the "civilians" were young,
seemed to have a military bearing, and wore only two kinds
of sport shirt. It was becoming clear that the Soviets were
supplying too much military equipment for the Cuban armed
forces to absorb. A small group of CIA analysts, expert in
deciphering the ways Moscow and its allies conducted their
foreign aid programs, became convinced that an unprece-
dented military build-up was occurring in Cuba. Their ef-
forts during August to alert top U.S. officials to this threat
were hampered, surprisingly, by military intelligence agencies,
namely the DIA and the NSA, which viewed the intensified

Intelligence and Policy

263

Soviet activity on the island as mostly economic assistance.
Perhaps it was because the CIA had performed so poorly
with its inaccurate reporting on Cuba as a prelude to the Bay
of Pigs that even the hawkish U.S. military establishment
was now leery of the agency's ability to assess the Cuban
situation. In any event, both the DIA and the NSA saw fit
to counter the CIA intelligence reports with rebuttals in late
August 1962.

The basic reason that the CIA analysts were able to moni-
tor the Soviet arms build-up more closely than the other
intelligence agencies, which had essentially the same informa-
tion available, was the more refined technique that the CIA
had developed, including a special analytical tool known as
"crate-ology" — a unique method of determining the con-
tents of the large crates carried on the decks of the Soviet
ships delivering arms. With a high degree of accuracy, the
sp>ecialists could look at photographs of these boxes, factor
in information about the ship's embarkation point and So-
viet military production schedules, and deduce whether the
crates contained transport aircraft or jet fighters. While the
system was viewed with caution by many in the intelligence
community, CIA director John McCone accepted its findings,
and his confidence in the technique proved to be justified.

Nevertheless, the CIA's analysts did not spot the first
shipments of Soviet offensive missiles, which arrived in Cuba
during the early part of September. The Soviets escaped the
scrutiny of the "crate-ologists" by sending the weapons in
the holds of huge freighters, not in crates carried on deck as
had been their usual practice when delivering bulky military
equipment. On September 19, the USIB approved the National
Intelligence Estimates which, while noting the disturbing
Soviet arms build-up, declared it unlikely that the Russians
would bring in nuclear-tipped missiles. During this period
McCone personally suspected the worst of the Soviets, but,
to his credit, he did not put his private views forward as
the CIA position since, as he would later say, it was based
on "intuition," not "hard intelligence." Nevertheless, he
did urge the White House to approve an increased schedule
of U-2 flights. The President agreed in early October,
but, at Defense Secretary McNamara's urging, responsibility
for the reconnaissance missions was turned over from the
CIA to the Air Force because of the danger that Soviet

264

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

SAMs (surface-to-air missiles) posed to more frequent
flights.*

On October 14 an Air Force U-2 brought back photo-
graphs of six medium-range ballistic-missile sites which were
nearing operational readiness and four intermediate range
sites in the early stages of construction. CIA analysts were
able to verify these pictures indisputably with the help of
information previously provided by satellite surveillance of
similar installations in the U.S.S.R. and from documents
supplied by Penkovsky, and also by comparing the

3 LINES DELETED

And thus the Cuban missile crisis began.

By the end of October, Nikita Khrushchev had been
outmaneuvered by Kennedy and he promised to withdraw
his country's offensive weapons from Cuba, in return for an
American pledge not to invade the island. (This was a pledge
that the CIA, with White House approval, seems to have
violated systematically by continuing its guerrilla raids on
Cuba until the late 1960s.) Tlie CIA and several military
intelligence agencies maintained their surveillance of .Cuba
to make sure the withdrawal was complete. It was, despite
persistent rumors in the press that the Soviets had hidden
some of the missiles in caves. The CIA even noted that a
group of IL-28 jet bombers had been removed from a hiding
place which the agency had (unknown to the Soviets) pre-
viously discovered.

President Kennedy chose later to view the missile crisis as
a nearly disastrous intelligence failure, since the CIA had
been unable to give early warning of the Soviet offensive
build-up and had predicted in its last estimate the unlikelihood
of Soviet missiles being placed on the island. He was not
willing to concede that the agency's warning of heavily in-
creased Soviet military activity on the island during the
summer months (when military intelligence was claiming
otherwise) compensated for the CIA's inability to predict

*Jusi as Ihe new wave ol U-2s was siarling surveillance of Cuba, on
October 9, 1962, the mainland Chinese used a SAM lo bring down a CIA
U-2 flown by a Nationalist Chinese pilot. A SAM of the same model had
knocked Francis Gary Powers out of the air over the Soviet Union two
years earlier and would down an Air Force plane over Cuba late in October i'
at Ihe height of the missile crisis.

Inielligence and Policy

265

that nuclear-missile sites would be constructed — even though
it was as a direct result of the agency's warning that surveil-
lance of the island was intensified and ultimately led to the
discovery of the missiles. To what extent the President still
mistrusted the CIA for its Bay of Pigs blunder is unclear, but
Kennedy obviously expected better information.

The Cuban missile crisis illustrated the inherent limita-
tions of intelligence, among the most important of which
is that certain events simply cannot be predicted with accu-
racy or confidence. Khrushchev's decision to install nuclear
missiles in Cuba was not knowable until the Soviets had
actually embarked on that course of action. Careful psycho-
logical studies of Khrushchev's character could provide sup-
positions that he might act in an unpredictable way, but to
have known exactly what he would do would have required
divine analytical wisdom or spies in the inner reaches of the
Kremlin — neither of which the CIA possessed. As for those
people in the intelligence community whose visceral feelings
led them to expect the worst of Khrushchev and Castro
before either had contemplated the missile gamble — to have
accepted their speculations as intelligence would have been
the height of irresponsibility. Allen Dulles and his Clandes-
tine Services lieutenants had had their own gut reactions to
events in Cuba nearly two years earlier, and when their
"feelings" were presented to the nation's leaders as intelli-
gence, the outcome was the Bay of Pigs. John McCone proved
himself a much more responsible intelligence officer than his
predecessor when, unlike Dulles, he refused to impose his
own suspicions upon the President. Hindsight may indicate
that the Dulles technique, employed by McCone, would
have had more favorable results — but hindsight is too easy.

The CIA and the rest of the intelligence community con-
ducted extensive post-mortems of the missile crisis. They
found that enough bits and pieces of information and other
tenuous evidence had been available to have warranted an
earlier judgment that the Soviets were installing their missiles.
Bureaucratic entanglements and frictions, coupled with some
degree of human imperfection, however, prevented even the
most astute intelligence officers from determining the true
purpose of Khrushchev's actions. Yet intelligence seems to
have done the best it could in the existing circumstances; the
one or two accurate agent reports picked up during Septem-

266

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

misleading ones. The collection of huge amounts of secret
information from a multitude of sources and the availability
of analytical staffs even larger than those available at the
time are by themselves no guarantee that the CIA and the
intelligence community will produce correct predictions. In-
telligence is in essence a guessing game, albeit one that is
grounded in fact, logic, and experience. It can be a useful
tool to the policy-makers, but it is not, even in its purest
form, a magic art.

Abusing I he Product

Unfortunately, intelligence reports are often sent to the
nation's leaders in a far from pure form, especially when the
subject is Soviet military capabilities. Y et , estimating rbe
q uantity and quahiy .'jfivip.r wrj ^^ yions is aroipabi^ The Inielli -
gcnJe community s most important t ask, since the"'^o ?L8t

Urrtmr. uiijL ViWfti^n.' w^j., ij> me iiiwy MbnifV \fi ITiHTySTId

that otf ers [f-^ >^'Mitf_lU.t ngT^uTit^TT'tWrtfflg(raaTe s^
( I he (Chinese strategic threat Ts' more potential than real.)
Every President since World War II has wanted to know
about any dangerous imbalances between American and So-
viet forces, and presidential decisions on whether or not to
go ahead with the development of new and expensive weap-
ons systems have been based, to a great extent, on intelli-
gence estimates of how strong the Russians are (although
domestic political considerations and the views of America's
allies also play a large role).

The Pentagon knows all too well that to justify its constant
demands for new weapons and larger forces, intelligence must
show that the Soviets are moving into a position of strength.*
To support a request for additional ships, the Navy will often
magnify an increased threat from the Soviet fleet. The Air
Force can much more easily obtain funds for a new bomber
if it can show that the Soviets are developing one. Similar
justifications can be — and have been — made for missiles,
tanks, and even the continuance of American programs for
chemical and biological warfare. Military analysts have tended
to take a "worst case" view of the Soviets, from which they

'Senator Stuart Symington has pointed out that scare stories about Soviet
military strength appear at congressional budget lime in springtime Washing-
ton as regularly as the cherry blossoms

Intelligence and Policy

predict the most dire possible consequences from Soviet
actions. Major General Daniel Graham, formerly chief of
estimates at the DIA, described the process in an April 1973
article in Army Magazine: "To put it bluntly, there is a
considerable body of opinion among decision-makers, in and
out of DOD [Department of Defense], which regards threat
estimates prepared by the military as being self-serving, bud-
get oriented, and generally inflated." While Graham con-
ceded that the lack of confidence in military estimates is
"fully understandable," stemming "from a series of bad
overestimates, later dubbed 'bomber gap,' 'missile gup,' and
'megaton gap,' " he asserted that the military intelligence
has now vastly improved and is capable of making objective
estimates. While most observers of the intelligence commu-
nity would agree with his assessment of the military's bad
record in estimates, few outside the Pentagon would accept
his assertion that objectivity has returned to the Pentagon's
appraisals of the Soviets, although those appraisals are un-
questionably closer to reality than they were ten years ago.

Graham illustrated another basic point that "is beginning
to be understood in military planner circles." He stated:

Estimates of future enemy forces and hardware are by
nature of intent — not just capability. The old arguments
about "capability versus intent" are heard less now in
DOD. It remains true that intelligence should empha-
size capability in descriptions of current and near-future
enemy forces. But the minute you tackle the usual prob-
lem of estimating enemy forces (or hardware) a year or
so into the future, you have entered the realm of intent.
For example, since World War II the Soviets have never
to our knowledge deployed forces of fielded hardware
as fast as their total capability permitted. To estimate
that they would do so with regard to some weapon
system or type of force in the future would make little
sense. ... It is remarkable how long it has taken some
of our military users to wise up to it.

As a result of the military's propensity to overestimate,
the CIA (usually supported by the State Department) is
almost always suspicious of Pentagon positions. Thus, the
agency tends to resist the counter military judgments, which
in turn has led to CIA underestimation. In the national-

268

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

security bureaucracy, the agency's tendency to be wrong on
the low side, while occurring far less frequently than the
Pentagon's errors, is considered more serious, since if esti-
mates of Soviet capabilities run too high, that provides a
margin for safety to the military planners, who may well
spend billions of dollars reacting to a non-existent threat but
who at least do not endanger the country by developing too
few weapons.

This continuing conflict between the military agencies and
the civilians in the intelligence community was most evident
in the preparation of the National Intelligence Estimates
(NIEs). which until 1973 were considered the highest form of
national intelligence.

In the internal CIA reshuffling begun by James Schlesinger
during his short stay at the agency and continued by present
Director Colby, the twelve-to-fourteen-man Board of Na-
tional Estimates and its staff of forty to fifty specialists have
been largely phased out — along with the production of thor-
oughly researched and well-thought-out community-wide
NIEs. These documents, long the epitome of finished intelli-
gence production, were found to be inadequate for the more
immediate foreign-policy purposes of Henry Kissinger and
the Nixon administratipn. Thus, the BNE has been replaced
by a group of eight senior officers known as National Intelli-
gence Officers who on short notice produce brief (no more
than ten- or twelve-page) assessments of whatever interna-
tional situation is of immediate concern to Kissinger's NSC
staff.

The net result of this change has been that long-term
estimates on broad subjects (e.g., the Outlook on Latin
America Over the Next Decade, Soviet Strategic Strike Ca-
pabilities for the Next Five Years, etc.) have given way to
short-term predictions which are little more than extensions
of current intelligence analysis. But the intelligence system is
the servant of the policy-maker and must meet his needs and
demands. Even so, the CIA's new estimating system has
failed to satisfy the NSC staff and the White House. The
tactical approach to world problems has proved to be of no
more value — and probably less — than the traditional strate-
gic view.

In the past, while the majority of the fifty or more NIEs
written each year dealt with political matters, both the
CIA and the Pentagon devoted the most work and attention

Intelligence and Policy

269

to estimates that dealt with foreign military capabilities —
especially the Soviet Union's. These NIEs, on such subjects
as Soviet strategic strike forces, air defense forces, and
general-purpose forces, influenced large decisions about the
American military budget, and each branch of the service as
well as the DIA (representing the Defense Department) as a
whole would fight fiercely to have its point of view included.

For example, in the 1963-to-1965 period when the Pentagon
was seeking funds to build an anti-ballistic-missile (ABM)
system, the military services joined together to promote the
idea that Moscow was in the process of deploying its own
ABM which would nullify the offensive nuclear threat of
American strategic forces. Thus, the Pentagon reasoned, the
United States would no longer have the power to stop the
Soviets from taking bold initiatives in Western Europe and
the TTiird World, and the security of the United States itself
would be threatened. Although the military may have be-
lieved sincerely that the Soviets were outdistancing the United
States and that Moscow would go on the offensive once it
had an advantage, the benefits to be received by the armed
services through an ABM system were still tremendously
large. The Army stood to receive billions of dollars to build
the system (and, not incidentally, get itself into the strategic-
missile field, which the Air Force and Navy had managed
to preempt). The Air Force could justify its requests for
more long-range missiles in order to overcome the Soviet
ABM defenses, and the Navy, on similar grounds, could ask
for additional funds for its missile-equipped submarines.

The CIA and the State Department, on the other hand,
did not see the Soviet ABM construction to be such a large
threat to the United States. Neither ascribed such hostile
intentions to the Soviets as the Pentagon did, and many
analysts were not even convinced that any sort of ABM
could ever be developed which could effectively stop the
other side's intercontinental missiles. (In fact, quite a few
cynical observers of the 1972 S.A.L.T. agreements believe
that the reason the American and Soviet governments agreed
to a limitation of two ABM sites each was that neither
country had real confidence that its own ABM would work
properly and thus was just as happy to be able to divert the
money into other sorts of weaponry.)

While the ABM debate was raging within the intelligence
community, both the civilian and the military analysts had

270

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

access to the same fragmentary information about what the
Soviets were doing in the field. There was tremendous pres-
sure for additional intelligence and the USIB was frequently
setting new collection requirements. Overt sources such as
U.S. diplomats and Soviet periodicals produced some data,
and Air Force spy planes flying along the fringes of the
Soviet Union picked up more. Huge radars and other elec-
tronic sensors located in ( DELETED ) also made a
contribution. And the most valuable information was sup-
plied by the photographic satellites.

Yet. the overall picture on the Soviet ABM was incomplete,
and the analysts were forced to make conclusions without
having all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle before them. Often
they turned to experts at the private "think tanks" for advice.
They also consulted with American corporations — especially
Bell Laboratories — that were performing research and devel-
opment for the U.S. ABM in the hope that some of the
fragmentary data amassed would make sense to the people
working on similar systems at home.

Both the civilian and the military analysts agreed that the
Soviets were constructing some sort of new defense system
at Leningrad, and something else at Moscow. Most of the
civilians believed that the Leningrad system was aimed against
American bombers, and that the Moscow system was proba-
bly an ABM defense still undergoing research and develop-
ment. The military claimed that the Leningrad site was actu-
ally an ABM, and that research had been completed for a
more advanced ABM system which would be constructed
around Moscow.

In those years from 1963 to 1965 the military entered foot-
note after footnote in the NIEs, and the views of a divided
community went forward to the White House. The Johnson
administration made hundreds of millions of dollars of devel-
opment funds available to the Army for the American ABM,
although the Pentagon would have liked even more money
to speed up development. Several years later, intelligence
learned that the Leningrad system was indeed aimed against
planes, not missiles (although the military quickly main-
tained — and still do today — that the Leningrad site could be
quickly "upgraded" to have ABM capability), but that at
Moscow the Soviets were building a true but limited ABM.
The civilian estimate had been much closer to the truth than

Intelligence and Policy

271

the military's, but the Pentagon got the funding it wanted
from the Johnson and the Nixon administrations to proceed
with the deployment of an ABM system.

These intelligence wars are not just fought out in the privacy
of the intelligence community. All the members have on
occasion selectively disclosed secret data to the press and to
members of Congress in support of their budgetary requests.
But as columnist Joseph Kraft has written, ". . . far, far
more than the civilians in the government, the uniformed
military are in the habit of leaking information to serve their
own interests." The sanctity of classified information seems
to fall apart when fights for additional funds are under way
in Congress. Former Assistant CIA Director for Research
Herbert Scoville, Jr., was absolutely correct when he told
the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on March 28, 1972,
that "the history of the past twenty years is dotted with
example after example of intelligence being misused to pro-
mote within the Congress the programs of individual organi-
zations or even of the administration as a whole."

Newsmen friendly to the Pentagon, such as Joseph Alsop
(who helped promote the Pentagon's mythical bomber, missile,
megaton, and ABM gaps, and is currently pushing the
military's latest fright gimmick, the "technological" gap),
and William Beecher,* have long received leaks of material
marked HIGHER THAN TOP SECRET to buttress the military's
case in a particular dispute. Included have been numerous
reports based on satellite photography and communications
intercepts — collection methods so sensitive that the over-
whelming majority of government employees with security
clearances are not authorized access to the information
received.

Then Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird and other De-
fense officials publicly quoted and leaked such one-sided
intelligence during the 1969 congressional debate over the

'Beecher, for many years the New Yorl( Times' Pentagon correspondent, left
the paper in early 1U73 to become a Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for
Public Affairs. Ironically, his 1969 story about the secret American bombing of
Cambodia and his 1971 piece on the classified American bargaining position at
the S.A.L.T. talks have been credited by the Nixon administration as being
among the principal reasons, along with the more important leak of the
Pentagon Papers, for the formation in June 1971 of the so-called White House
plumbers to stop unauthorized disclosures in the press.

272

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

ABM that someone — probably in the CIA or the State
Department — countered by providing the New York Times
with the draft of a USIB estimate that refuted most of the
Pentagon arguments about the danger posed by the Soviet
ABM. In 1971 the Defense Department passed satellite-photo-
based material concerning alleged Soviet construction of a
new and larger type of missile to military-spending champion
Senator Henry Jackson. Calling the development "ominous
indeed," Jackson warned the country on March 7 about what
the Soviets were supposedly doing, at the same time that
Congress was considering the military budget. Melvin Laird
corroborated Jackson's disclosure three days later in a televi-
sion interview, and on April 22 cited fresh intelligence
"confirming the sobering fact that the Soviet Union is in-
volved in a new — and apparently extensive — ICBM construc-
tion program." Additionally, the threat described by Jackson
and Laird was made even more vivid by a spate of unattributed
supporting leaks.

Finally, an anonymous CIA employee struck back at the
Pentagon. He knew that the agency had concluded that the
Soviets were only "hardening" their missile sites rather than
deploying a huge new missile system, and that over two
thirds of the excavations mentioned by Jackson and Laird
were intended for an older and relatively small ICBM. So
this CIA man publicly disclosed the agency's secret finding,
according to the New York Times of May 26, 1971, through
"non-government arms control experts" and "Senate Republi-
can sources." Even though the CIA appraisal turned out to
be much closer to the truth than the Pentagon's gloomy
version, at least for another year, no one in the U.S. intelli-
gence community knew for sure what the Soviet missile
builders were really doing. In the meantime, the military
scare stories — offset to some extent by the CIA's counter-
leak — undoubtedly had a psychological effect on the Congress,
which in 1971, as usual, approved almost the whole Pentagon
budget request.

The tragedy of all this maneuvering is that, despite the S6
billion paid out each year for intelligence, neither the Con-
gress nor the public receives a true or worthwhile picture of
Soviet military capabilities. Intelligence professionals explain
that the sensitivitiy of the sources and methods involved in
collecting this information makes the high degree of secrecy
necessary, and they have resisted congressional attempts to

Intelligence and Policy

273

create a regular procedure for sharing data with the legislative
branch. Yet the professionals do not hesitate to leak the most
highly classified intelligence when it serves their departmen-
tal interests. Moreover, the intelligence community regularly
provides friendly foreign countries with detailed estimates of
Soviet military strength, and during the S.A.L.T. talks the
nation's negotiators even told their Soviet counterparts how
much the United States really knew about Soviet missiles.*
Yet, the American Congress, which has the constitutional
responsibility to approve funds for the military budget, can-
not get the same information.

Congress, however, has always had the legislative power
to insist that the CIA and the rest of the community share
with it information on Soviet military capabilities — or any
other subject, for that matter. Yet, to date. Congress as a
whole has refused to take such action, despite the loud
protests of a vocal minority. And Congress' unwillingness to
take even so small a step to make itself better informed
about the data used to justify military spending is sympto-
matic of the legislative branch's much larger failing: its refusal
to exercise any degree of meaningful control over American
intelligence activities.

*ln [act, ihe American S.A.L.T. negotiators were so explicit in their descrip-
tion of Soviet capabilities that at one point, according to John Newhouse's
account in his book Cold Dawn, the ranking Soviet general look an American
military man aside and asked that the U.S. not give the Soviet civilian
negotiators such detailed information on Soviet missiles.

10.

CONTROLLING THE CIA

I submit that there is no federal agency of our
government whose activities receive closer scrutiny
and "control" than the CIA.

— LYMAN KIRKPATRICK

former Executive Director. CIA
October 11. 1971

The reverseof thai statement [Kirkpatrick'sj is true
in my opinion, and it is shameful for the American
people to be so misled. There is no federal agency
of our government whose activities receive less scru-
tiny and control than the CIA.

— SENATOR STUART SYMINGTON

Member, Joint Senate
Committee for CIA Oversight
November 23. 1971

Although Harry Truman wrote in 1963 that "I never had any
thought when I set up the CIA that it would be injected into
peacetime cloak-and-dagger operations," he — and each Presi-
dent after him — willingly employed the agency to carry out
clandestine espionage and covert intervention in the internal
affairs of other countries — those activities, in short, subsumed
under the "such other functions and duties" language in the
enabling legislation. In that phrase lies the authority, accord-
ing to Richard Helms, for overthrowing foreign governments,
subverting elections, bribing officials, and waging "secret"
wars. As Helms told the American Society of Newspaper
Editors in 1971, this "language was designed to enable us to
conduct such foreign activities as the national government
may find it convenient to assign to what can best be de-
scribed as a 'secret service.' "
From its beginning, the CIA's actual functions were couched

Controlling the CIA

275

in deception and secrecy. Richard Bissell's notorious Coun-
cil on Foreign Relations speech in 1968 (see p. 327) stressed
that the original legislation was "necessarily vague." He
continued:

CIA's full "charter" has been frequently revised, but it
has been, and must remain, secret. The absence of a
public charter leads people to search for the charter and
to question the Agency's authority to undertake various
activities. The problem of a secret "charter" remains as
a curse, but the need for secrecy would appear to pre-
clude a solution.

There was never any doubt in the minds of men like
Bissell that the CIA's functions should not be a matter of
public record. In fact, the National Security Act of 1947 and
the supporting Central Intelligence Act of 1949 are little more
than legal covers which provide for the existence of the CIA
and authorize it to operate outside the rules affecting other
government agencies. The CIA's actual role is spelled out
in Bissell's "secret charter" — that series of classified exec-
utive orders called National Security Intelligence Directives
(NSCIDs or "en-skids"). These directives were "codified" in
1959, but remain unavailable to all but a few key government
officials. Not until July 1973 did the CIA offer the congres-
sional subcommittees which supposedly oversee its activities
a glimpse at the "secret charters." And the public still has
no way of knowing if the agency is exceeding its mandate,
because it has no way of knowing what that mandate is.

Duringthe 1947 congressional debate concerning the agency's
formation. Representative Fred Busby asked, "I wonder if
there is any foundation for the rumors that have come to me
to the effect that through this CIA they are contemplating
operational activities." The rumors were indeed accurate,
and the following year President Truman approved NSC
directive 10/2 which authorized first the semi-independent
Office of Policy Coordination, and then in 1951 the CIA
itself, to carry out "dirty tricks" overseas, with the two
stipulations that the operations be secret and "plausibly
deniable." A whole series of NSCIDs expanding the CIA's
activities were issued in the years that followed. One, NSCID
7, gave the CIA powers inside the United Slates to question
Americans about their foreign travels, and to enter into

276

The CIA and I he Cull of Intelligence

contractual arrangements with American universities, even
though the National Security Act of 1947 forbade the agency
to exercise any "police, subpoena, law enforcement powers,
or internal security functions." Another NSCID was appar-
ently shown to the judge in the 1966 court case in which one
Estonian-American slandered a fellow refugee and then
claimed "absolute privilege" to have done so because he was
acting under the CIA's orders. Having seen the secret
directive, the judge ruled that the agency had the power to
operate among emigre groups in the United States, and
he dismissed the suit. Yet another, NSCID 6, apparently
spells out the functions of the National Security Agency
(which itself was created by executive order), since in the
Nixon administration's 1970 secret plan for domestic espio-
nage there is a recommendation that this directive be revised
to allow NSA "coverage of the communications of U.S.
citizens using international facilities."

The essential point is that successive Presidents have regu-
larly enlarged the functions of the CIA by executive fiat. No
new laws have been passed, and only a handful of Congress-
men have been informed of what was happening. And some-
times Presidents have acted without informing even these
normally indulgent congressional "watchdogs," as was the
case when President Nixon approved the domestic spying
program, and received the CIA's cooperation. The CIA, if
nothing else, has always considered that anything a Presi-
dent told it to do was permissible — indeed, necessary — for
the defen.se of the country.

"Out of the crisis of World War II and ensuing cold war,"
Senator Jacob Javits said on July 18, 1973, "lawyers for
the President had spun a spurious doctrine of 'inherent'
commander-in-chief powers broad enough to cover virtually
every 'national security' contingency." Top CIA officials
heartily endorse this broad interpretation of presidential
powers, even though they understand that the agency's activi-
ties often are of doubtful legality. Senator Symington asked
Director-designate William Colby on July 2, 1973, "Do not
large-scale operations, such as the war in Laos, go considera-
bly beyond what Congress intended when it provided [in the
1947 act] for other functions and duties related to intelligence?"
Colby replied, "I think it undoubtedly did." But Colby
justified the Laotian operation on the grounds it was carried
out with "proper review, instructions, and direction of the

Controlling the CIA

111

National Security Council" and — most important — the Presi-
dent. The legality of the matter, in Colby's apparent view,
stemmed from the chief executive's authorization, not the
law. Senator Harold Hughes later asked Colby, "Do you
believe it is proper under our Constitution for such military
operations to be conducted without the knowledge or ap-
proval of the Congress?" Colby's written response is an
interesting commentary on the modern meaning of congres-
sional approval:

The appropriate committees of the Congress and a num-
ber of individual senators and congressmen were briefed
on CIA's activities in Laos during the period covered.
In addition, CIA's programs were described to the Ap-
propriations Committees in our annual budget hearings.*

Colby's explanation reflects the general belief in the CIA
that legislative and judicial restraints simply do not apply to
the agency — as long as it is acting under presidential order.
The CIA sees itself, in Senator Symington's words, as
"the King's men, or the President's army." Nevertheless,
Congress must take some responsibility for contributing to
the agency view of being "above the law," since it specifi-
cally exempted the CIA from all budgetary limitations which
apply to other government departments. The 1949 statute
reads: "Notwithstanding any other provision of law, sums
made available to the Agency by appropriation otherwise
may be expended for purposes necessary to carry out its
functions. . . ." This law, which also gives the DCI the right
to spend unvouchered funds,** does not say, however, that the
CIA should not be accountable to Congress; but that, essen-
tially, has been the experience of the past twenty-five years.

'Colby's claim that these committees were informed conflicts directly with
the 1971 statements of the late Senate Appropriations Committee Chairman,
Allen Ellender (quoted later in this chapter), that he knew nothing about the
CIA's 36,000-man "secret" army in Laos.

** These provisions, along with Congress' practice of hiding the CIA's budget
in appropriations to other government departmenis, may well violate the
constitutional requirement that "No money shall be drawn from the Treasury,
but in consequence of appropriations made by law; and a regular statement
and account of the receipts and expenditures of all public money shall be
published from time to time." A legal challenge (Higgs el at. v. Helms el at ) to
the CIA's secrecy in budgetary matters, based on these constitutional grounds,
is currently pending in the federal court system.

278

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

The 40 Committee

The executive branch has its own mechanisms to control
the CIA. While these procedures are slanted greatly to
favor the agency's position, they do require high-level —
usually presidential — approval of all major covert operations
except the CIA's classical espionage activities.

By the 1947 law, the CIA falls under the National Security
Council, reports to the President through it, and takes its
orders from it. But the NSC has, in fact, become a moribund
body during the Nixon administration, and the agency re-
ports sometimes to the President but more often to the NSC
staff headed by Henry Kissinger. By levying intelligence-
collection priority requirements and requesting analytical con-
tributions to policy studies, the Kissinger staff plays a large
part in directing the CIA's information-gathering effort. As
far as the agency is concerned, however, the NSC itself is
little more than a conduit from the President and Kissinger
to the CIA. a legal fiction which is preserved because the
1947 law gives it authority over the agency.

Every major CIA proposal for covert actior^ — including
subsidies for foreign political leaders, political parties, or
publications, interference in elections, major propaganda
activities, and the paramilitary operations — still must be
approved by the President or the 40 Committee.' The nearly
ubiquitous Kissinger chairs this committee, just as he heads
the three other principal White House panels which super-
vise the intelligence community.

Allen Dulles described the 40 Committee's role in The
Craft of Intelligence: "The facts are that the CIA has never
carried out any action of a political nature, given any sup-
port of any nature to any persons, potentates or movements,
political or otherwise, without appropriate approval at a
high political level in our government outside the CIA" (Dulles'
italics). Dulles' statement was and is correct, but he carefully
omitted any mention of the CIA's espionage activities. He
also did not mention that the 40 Committee functions in such
a way that it rarely turns down CIA requests for covert
action.

'Over Ihc bst twcniy-livc yean this body has also been called the Special
Group. Ihe 54-12 Group, and Ihc 303 Commillcc. lis name has changed wiih
new adminislraiions or whenever its existence has become publicly known.

Controlling the CIA

279

The committee is supposed to meet once a week, but the
busy schedule of its members* causes relatively frequent
cancellations. When it does meet — roughly once or twice a
month in the Nixon administration — intentionally incomplete
minutes are kept by its one permanent staff member, who is
always a CIA officer. All the proposnis for American inter-
vention overseas that come before the committee are drafted
by the CIA's Clandestine Services, and thus are likely to
maximize the benefits to be gained by agency action and to
minimize the disadvantages and risks. More often than not,
these proposals are put into final form only a few days
before the 40 Committee meets. Thus, the non-CIA mem-
bers often have little time to investigate the issues adequately.
And even when sufficient prior notice is given, the staff
work that can be done is extremely limited by the supersecrecy
surrounding the 40 Committee's deliberations and the fact
that only a handful of people outside the agency are cleared
to know about its activities. Even within the CIA the short
deadlines and the excessive secrecy allow for little indepen-
dent review of the projects by the Director's own staff.

The 40 Committee's members have so many responsibili-
ties in their own departments that they usually have only a
general knowledge about most countries of the world. On
specific problems, they generally rely on advice from their
agency's regional experts, but these officials are often denied
access to 40 Committee proposals and never are allowed to
accompany their bosses to committee sessions. Only the
DCI is permitted to bring with him an area specialist, and
the other high officials, deprived of their own spear carriers,
are at a marked disadvantage. Moreover the 40 Committee
members are men who have been admitted into the very
private and exclusive world of covert operations, and they
have an overwhelming tendency to agree with whatever is
proposed, once they are let in on the secret. The non-CIA
members of the committee have had little or no experience
in covert operations, and they tend to defer to the views of
the "experts." Columnist Stewart Alsop, himself an OSS
veteran, described in the May 25, 1973, Washington Post how
the brightest men in the Kennedy administration could have

*ln addition to Kissinger. Ihey arc currently the Under Secretary of State for
Political Affairs, the Deputy Secretary of Defense, the Director of Central

Inlcllipencc and rhr Chairman nF fhf Ininl r'hii>fc nf Cfjfr

280 The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

approved an adventure with so small a chance of success as
the Bay of Pigs invasion, and his explanation applies just as
well to other CIA activities. Alsop stated, "The answer lies
somewhere in the mystique of the secret-service professional
vis-a-vis the amateur. Somehow in such a confrontation, the
amateur tends to put a childish faith in the confident asser-
tions of the professional." Similarly, Marilyn Berger in the
May 26, 1973, Washington Post quoted a veteran intelligence
official about his e.xperiences in dealing with the 40 Committee:
"They were like a bunch of schoolboys. They would listen
and their eyes would bug out. I always used to say that I
could get SS million out of the Forty Committee for a covert
operation faster than I could get money for a typewriter out
of the ordinary bureaucracy."

The 40 Committee process is further loaded in favor of the
CIA because the agency prepares the proposals, and discus-
sion is thereby within the CIA's terms of reference. The
non-CIA members have no way of verifying that many of
the agency's assertions and assumptions are correct; for
example, ihe Clandestine Services' June 1970 recommenda-
tion for intervention in the Chilean elections slated that the
$400,000 requested would b« used to fund "black," or
clandestine, propaganda efforts designed to hurt Salvador
Allende's candidacy, but it did not mention which publications.
Journalists, and politicians would receive the money. The
non-CIA members had to accept the agency's word that this
program would have a chance of success. For security reasons,
the specific people and methods that the CIA intends to use
in a secret operation of this type are never included in the
proposal. 40 Committee members can ask about the details
at the actual meetings, but they have no way of knowing,
without their own regional experts present, whether or not
the CIA is providing them with self-serving answers.

In fact, much of the intelligence upon which the recom-
mended intervention is based comes from the Clandestine
Services' own sources, and this mixing of the CIA's informa-
tional and operational functions can cause disastrous results,
as occurred when the agency led the Kennedy administration
to believe in 1961 that a landing of an exile military force
would lead to a general uprising of the Cuban people. A
more recent if less cataclysmic case occurred in 1970 when
intervention in the Chilean elections was under government
consideration. At that lime, the Clandestine Services sent

Controlling the CIA

281

Henry Kissinger and the heads of the various intelligence
agencies an . . . account, attributed to ... of how the Soviet
Union intended to benefit by an Allende victory. A Slate
Department official, who had regular access to CIA s . . .
material, recalb being immediately struck by the implausihil-
ityof the CIA source, ... the content of the report provided
a strong argument for U.S. intervention to forestall Soviet
gains. This report may or may not have been genuine. In
either case, it was disseminated by the people in the Clandes-
tine Services who favored intervention, and they were well
aware of the effect it would have on the 40 Committee
members. If. in this instance, the covert operators were not
actually misleading the committee, they certainly could have
been, and there was no way that any independent check
could be made on them.

Until the 1%7 disclosure of secret CIA funding of the
National Student Association and scores of other ostensibly
private organizations, the 40 Committee was called on only
to give initial approval to covert-action programs.* Thus,
most CIA-penetrated and subsidized organiz.itions went on
receiving agency funds and other support year after year
without any outside review whatever of the continuing wor-
thiness of the project. But the 1967 scandal caused the 4(1
Committee to revise its procedures so that all ongoing non-
espionage operations were regularly reviewed. In these
reviews, however, the committee is perhaps even more de-
pendent on the CIA for information and guidance than
with new programs. For unless there has been a public
controversy, only the Clandestine Services usually know
whether their efforts to subsidize a particular organization
or undermine a certain government have been successful.
And the Clandestine Services would be unlikely to admit
that their own operation was going badly, even if that were
the case.

'Final approval for a covcrl-aclion program is normally given by Ihe 40
Committee chairman — still Henry Kissinger, even since he has become Secre-
tary of State. He. in turn, notifles Ihe President of what has been decided,
and if there is a matter on which the committee was in disagreement, the chief
executive maltes the final decision. Although the President either reviews or
personally authorizes all these secret inlervenlions in other countries' internal
affairs, he never signs any documents to that effect. Instead, the onus is
placed on the 40 Commiltce, and if he chooses, the President can "plausibly

282

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

3 LINES DELETED

American officials hoped that through this "democratic front"
Thieu could widen his political base by rallying various non-
communist opposition elements to his camp. The effort was
a resounding failure from the American |X>int of view, since
Thieu showed no interest in broadening his support — as long
as the Vietnamese army and the U.S. government still sup-
ported him. Even though this was one of the few instances
where the State Department, through its diplomatic report-
ing from Saigon,

S LINES DELETED

Even Richard Bissell in his 1968 Council on Foreign Rela-
tions talk admitted that the 40 Committee "is of limited
effectiveness." Bissell stated that if the committee were the
only control instrument, he would "view it as inadequate,"
but he believed that prior discussions on covert projects at
working levels in the bureaucracy compensated for the fail-
ings of the "interdepartmental committee composed of busy
officials who meet only once a week." To some extent what
Bissell says is true, but he omits the fact that the most
important projects, such as the Bay of Pigs, are considered
so sensitive that the working levels outside the CIA are
forbidden all knowledge of them. And he does not state that
even when a few outside officials at the Assistant Secretary
level or just below are briefed on covert operations, they are
told the programs are so secret that they cannot talk to any
of their colleagues about them, which prevents them from
calling into play the bureaucratic forces usually needed to
block another agency's projects. Furthermore, these officials,
having been let in on the U.S. government's dirtiest and
darkest activities, are often reluctant to do anything in oppo-
sition that will jeopardize their right to be told more secrets
at a later time. Nevertheless, the bureaucracy in State and,
to a much lesser extent, in Defense does have some effect in
limiting the CIA's covert operations, although not nearly so
much as Bissell claimed.

As previously mentioned, there is one CIA activity, classi-
cal espionage, over which there is no outside control — not
from the 40 Committee, from the bureaucratic working level,
nor from Congress. The Director of Central Intelligence has

Controlling the CIA

283

a statutory responsibility to protect intelligence sources and
methods from unauthorized disclosure, and every DCI since
Allen Dulles has taken this to mean that the CIA cannot
inform any other government agencies of the identity of its
foreign agents — the agency's most closely guarded secrets.
While this secrecy in order not to jeopardize the lives of
foreigners (or Americans) who spy for the CIA is under-
standable, the use of a particular agent can sometimes have
a political effect as large as, or larger than, a covert-action
program. For example, if the CIA recruits a foreign official
who is or becomes his country's Minister of Interior (e.g.,
Antonio Arguedas in Bolivia), then discovery of his connec-
tion to the agency can cause an international incident (as
occurred in 1968 when Arguedas publicly admitted that he
had worked for the CIA). In other instances, there have
been Foreign Ministers and even Prime Ministers who were
CIA agents, but the 40 Committee never was permitted to
rule on whether or not the agency should continue its con-
tact with them. Sometimes the CIA station chief in a particu-
lar country will advise the American ambassador that one of
his agents is in a very high place in the local government or
that he intends to recruit such a man, but the station chief
does so at his own discretion.

The recruitment of lower-level foreigners can also have an
important effect, especially if something goes wrong. This
was the case in Singapore in 1960 (described in Chapter 9)
when a CIA lie-detector expert blew a fuse, wound up in
jail, caused the U.S. government to be subjected to blackmail,
and damaged America's reputation overseas. The point to
be noted is that since the CIA lie-detector man was putting a
potential spy through the "black box," his mission was part
of an espionage operation and hence not subject to control
outside the agency. Similarly, during the mid-1960s . . .

Some forms of technical espionage, however, do come before
the 40 Committee. These are the aerial and naval surveillance
missions run against foreign targets by the CIA and military
intelligence, and they are listed monthly in a "higher than
top-secret" document called the Joint Reconnaissance Schedule.
The 40 Committee's primary concern is the political sensitivity
of these missions — not their technical aspects or even their
intelligence value. The committee is supposed to warn if a
flight over or a cruise off a particular country is too danger-
ous to be carried out at a particular time. Included in the

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The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

schedule are SR-71 flights over North Korea and Southeast
Asia, U-2 flights over Cuba, and . . .

Prepared by the Pentagon's National Reconnaissance
Office, the Joint Reconnaissance Schedule is always several
inches thick and filled with hundreds of pages of highly
technical data and maps. To a non-scientist, it is a truly
incomprehensible collection of papers, and the stafTs of the
various 40 Committee members usually have only a day or
two to look it over before the meetings. Under these
conditions, the 40 Committee usually passes the schedule
with little or no discussion. From time to time, the State
Department will object to a particularly dangerous flight,
such as sending an Air Force drone over South China subse-
quent to the American invasion of Cambodia, but nearly
always missions — including the cruise of the Liberty (attacked
by the Israelis during the 1967 Six Day War), the voyage of
the spy ship Pueblo (captured by the North Koreans in 1968),
and the flight of the EC- 121 (shot down by the North Ko-
reans in 1969) — are routinely approved. As an illustration of
how little attention the 40 Committee gives to the Joint Recon-
naissance Schedules, the Air Force for more than ten years
flew a regular surveillance mission that came within a mile or
so of the Albanian coast. Although these spy missions to
collect electronic data on Albania's air deferxse system may
technically have never strayed over Albanian air space be-
cause of Greek ownership of the island of Corfu just off the
coast, the 40 Committee never realized that periodically from
1959 onward, it had authorized U.S. planes to fly so close to
Albania, the most unpredictable and radical communist coun-
try in Europe. In 1968, CIA analysis discovered what had
been going on and informally warned the Air Force, but the
flights continued anyway. The following year, after the North
Koreans shot down the Navy's EC -1 21 well outside their
territorial airspace, the White House ordered a review of all
reconnaissance Rights. Air Force headquarters in Washington
finally grasped the potential dangers of the Albanian flights
and quietly canceled them without informing the White House.
The Joint Reconnaissance Schedule simply became a page or
two thinner, and no one on the 40 Committee was ever the
wiser.

Even as the 40 Committee fails to keep a close watch on
secret reconnaissance activities, is relatively ineffective in
monitoring the CIA's covert operations, and is totally in the

Controlling the CIA

28S

dark on espionage operations. President Nixon and espe-
cially Henry Kissinger are unquestionably aware of its short-
comings and have done little to change things. Institutionally,
the committee could easily provide better control over Ameri-
can intelligence if its internal procedures were altered, if it
were provided with an adequate staff, and if it could develop
its own sources for information and evaluation independent
of the agency's Clandestine Services. But it is the President
and Kissinger who ultimately determine how the CIA
operates, and if they do not want to impose closer control,
then the form of the control mechanism is meaningless. The
fact remains that both men believe in the need for the
United States to use clandestine methods and "dirty tricks"
in dealing with other countries, and the current level and
types of such operations obviously coincide with their views
of how America's secret foreign policy should be carried
out.

Therefore, as long as the CIA remains the President's
loyal and personal tool to be used around the world at his
and his top advisor's discretion, no President is likely, bar-
ring strong, unforeseen pressure, to insist that the agency's
operations be brought under closer outside scrutiny.

The PFIAB and the OMB

In addition to the 40 Committee, the President has two other
bodies in the executive branch which could conceivably as-
sist him in controlling the CIA. One of these is the President's
Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board (PFIAB), a group of
eleven presidentially appointed private citizens who meet
several times a year to evaluate the activities of the intelli-
gence community and to make recommendations for needed
change. President Eisenhower originally set up the PFIAB
in 1956 under the chairmanship of Dr. James Killian of MIT,
and its other heads have been General John Hull, Clark
Clifford, General Maxwell Taylor, and, currently, retired
Admiral George Anderson. The majority of its members
have always been people with close ties to the Pentagon
and defense contractors,* and it has consistently pushed

'In February 1974. the PFIAB's members in addition to Admiral Anderson
were Dr. William Baker, Bell Telephone Laboratories' Vice President for
Research; John Connally, former Governor of Texas and Secretary of the

286

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

for bigger (and more expensive) intelligence-collection
systems.

The PFIAB meets approximately once a month in Wash-
ington, and is thus of limited value as a permanent watchdog
committee. It is further handicapped by its status as an
advisory group, with the resulting lack of bureaucratic
authority. In general the various members of the intelligence
community look on the board as more of a nuisance than a
true control mechanism. Periodically, when PFIAB is in
session, CIA officials brief the members on current intelli-
gence collection and the latest national estimates. The Clan-
destine Services' activities — particularly covert-action opera-
tions — are almost never considered unless an operation has
already been publicly disclosed.

Over the years. Presidents have tended to use the PFIAB
as a prestigious but relatively safe "in-house" investigative
unit, usually at times when the chief executive was dis-
pleased with the quality of intelligence he was receiving.
Whenever an intelligence failure is suspected in connection
with a foreign-policy setback, the board is usually convened
to look into the matter. President Kennedy called on it to
recommend ways to reorganize the intelligence community
after the 1961 Bay of Pigs debacle, but virtually no changes
resulted from the PFIAB's efforts. The following year Ken-
nedy asked the PFIAB to find out why the CIA had not
discovered sooner that there were Soviet offensive missiles
in Cuba, and the PFIAB found the two accurate agent
accounts of the Soviet build-up buried among the thousands
of misleading or irrelevant reports which had piled up at the
agency in the month before the crisis. With perfect hindsight
the PFIAB declared that the CIA should have recognized
the truth of these reports and rejected all the others. Similarly,
in 1968 President Johnson had the board investigate why the
CIA had not determined the precise timing of the Soviet
invasion of Czechoslovakia in advance.

These PFIAB post-mortems can be of great value to the

Navy and Ihe Treasury; L«o Chernc. Executive Director of Ihe Research
Instiiulc o( America: Dr. John Foster, former Director of Defense Depart-
ment Research and Engineering; Robert Calvin, President of Motorola;
Gordon Gray, former Assistant to Ihe President for National Security Affairs;
Dr Edwin Land. President of Polaroid; Clare Boothe Luce, former Congress-
woman and ambassador; Nelson Rockefeller, former Governor of New York;
and Dr. Edward Teller, nuclear physicist and "father" of Ihe hydrogen bomb.

Controlling the CIA

287

intelligence community in pinpointing spcciflc weaknesses and
recommending solutions; they could be even more useful in
making clear that certain events simply cannot be predicted
in advance, even by the most efficient intelligence system.
However, the PFI AB has tended to operate with the assump-
tion that all information is "knowable" and that the intelli-
gence community's problems would be solved if only more
data were collected by more advanced systems. This empha-
sis on quantity over quality has served to accentuate the
management problems that plague American intelligence and,
in recent years at least, has often been counterproductive.

Probably the PFIAB's most notable contribution to the
nation's intelligence effort occurred in the 19S()s and early
1960s when one of its subcommittees, headed by Polaroid's
Dr. Edwin Land, conceived several new technical collection
programs. Land's subcommittee was instrumental in advanc-
ing the development of the U-2 spy plane, which, with the
exception of the ill-fated Powers flight over the Soviet Union,
may be considered one of the CIA's greatest successes.
Dr. Land was also a great champion of the increased use of
reconnaissance satellites, which have become the most valuable
source of intelligence available to the United States, and the Land
panel played no small part in their development. Unfortunately,
his group has continued to recommend ever improved satellites
even at a time when existing ones can photograph objects smaller
.... The new systems are technologically feasible, but they
are fantastically expensive, costing billions of dollars, and
the intelligence benefits to be gained are marginal.

The President's last potential regulatory body for intelli-
gence affairs is the Office of Management and Budget (OMB).
Known as the Bureau of the Budget until 1969, the OMB is
the White House agency which closely scrutinizes the spend-
ing of all government departments and determines fiscal
priorities for the administration. It has the power to cut the
spending of federal agencies and even eliminate entire
programs. Cabinet secretaries can sometimes appeal the OMB's
decisions to the President, but he is understandably reluctant
to overrule his own budgetary watchdog. For the CIA,
however, the OMB (and the BOB before it) has never been
more than a minor irritant. Its International Affairs Division's
intelligence branch, which in theory monitors the finances of
the intelligence community, has a staff of only five men: a
branch chief and one examiner each for the CIA, the NSA,

288

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

the National Reconnaissance Office, and the DIA (including
the rest of military intelligence). These five men could not
possibly do a complete job in keeping track of the S6 billion
spent annually for government spying, even if they received
full cooperation from the agencies involved — which they do
not.

The theology of national security, with its emphasis on
secrecy and deception, greatly limits the effectiveness of the
President's budget examiners, who are generally treated as
enemies by the intelligence agencies. In this regard, the CIA
has been particularly guilty. When the OMB started monitor-
ing the agency in the 1950s, the budget man was refused a
permanent pass to visit headquarters. He was regularly forced
to wait at the building's entrance while a CIA official up-
stairs was telephoned and asked to verify the auditor's
credentials. The situation improved somewhat in 1962 after
Robert Amory. former CIA Deputy Director for Intelligence,
became head of the OMB's International Division, and the
examiner received his own badge. (The former examiner
was meanwhile recruited by the CIA and assigned to deal
with the OMB, and the new examiner turned out to be
himself a former agency employee, who eventually returned
also to handle relations with the OMB.)

In the mid-1960s President Johnson gave the OMB ex-
panded power to scrutinize agency spending, but even this
presidential mandate did not appreciably improve the bureau's
access. For example, after the 40 Committee approved in
1967 the expenditure of . . . the OMB examiner wanted to
look into how the money was being spent. At one point, he
came to the agency with the intention of speaking to the
knowledgeable personnel in the Clandestine Services, after
first stopping off to see one of the CIA's Planning, Program-
ming, and Budgeting (PPB) officers. The PPB man was told
not to let the OMB representative leave his office while
Director Helms was being informed of what the OMB was
trying to investigate. Helms promptly called a high White
House official to complain that the OMB was interfering
with a program already approved by the 40 Committee. The
White House, in turn, ordered the OMB to drop its
inquiry. . . . was expended. . . which had the 40 Committee's
and the President's approval, but the President's own budget
agency was forbidden to see where the money went.

The significance of this incident is not so much that the

Controlling the CIA

289

CIA makes life difficult for the OMB and gets away with it.
Rather, what happened reflects the agency's attitude that its
operations are above normal bureaucratic restraints and that
when the President has given his approval, not even the
technicalities can be questioned.

The CIA has also resorted to the use of outright lies and
deceit to prevent the OMB from being informed about its
activities. In 1968 an examiner made a fact-finding tour of
CIA installations in Europe and the Middle East. He was
accompanied by an agency officer from headquarters, and
his escort was specifically told by the Clandestine Services'
European Division chief that the budget man should not be
allowed to see anything "which might later cause us diffi-
culty or embarrassment." The examiner was to be entertained,
given cursory briefings, but not educated.

. . . the BOB examiner requested to visit a CIA . . . station
. . . but the Agency did not want them to go there. Although
he had left Washington with the . . . installation on his itinerary,
when he arrived . . . he was told that the CIA was then
embroiled in a bureaucratic dispute with the . . . and the
presence of an outsider at . . . would only disturb .... CIA
personnel . . . also said that . . . for him to make the trip.
Both these stories were untrue, but the BOB examiner never
got to visit the installation.

CIA headquarters knew that the OMB man was extremely
interested in guns and police work, and the field stations
were so informed.

2 LINES DELETED

he was asked if he would first like to visit Scotland Yard.
With his interest in police work, he was unable to resist such
an offer and, by prearrangement, the British police snowed
him under with extensive briefings and tours of the facilities.
This diversion, which had nothing to do with the purpose of
his trip, cost him a whole day out of his tight schedule. The
next day he was slated to drive to another CIA installation
about a hundred miles from London. But the agency did not
want him to have much time to ask questions or to look
around. Thus, his route was planned to pass through Banbury,
the picturesque old English town whose cross is of nursery-
rhyme fame. As the agency's operators had suspected, he
could not forgo the pleasure of stopping in a typical English

290

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

pub for lunch and then doing some sightseeing. The better
part of another day was killed in this fashion, and he never
had time to dig deeply into matters the agency did not want
him to know about. Soon after, he left England without ever
closely inspecting the agency's extensive activities there (aimed
principally at Third World countries). To be sure, he had
hardly been assiduous in his effort to penetrate the CIA
smoke screen.

In the Near East, things worked out better for the man
from OMB. The head of that division, unlike the European
Division clandestine chief, saw the tour as an opportunity to
impress the OMB examiner with the agency's activities. Thus,
the escort officer was instructed to give the visitor "the full
treatment," and the clandestine operators in the field were
told to confide in him in order to win him over to the CIA
side.

This examiner's experience was not exceptional. Many
similar instances point up the OMB's — and, earlier, the
BOB's — failure to exercise any degree of meaningful con-
trol over the CIA. As Director, Richard Helms was fully
aware and indeed encouraging of the agency's efforts to
escape OMB scrutiny. Still, he could apparently in good
conscience tell the American Society of Newspaper Editors
in 1971, "Our budget is gone over line for line by the Office
of Management and Budget."

The Ambassador

The American ambassador in each country where the United
States maintains diplomatic relations is, in theory, the head
of the "country team," which is made up of the chiefs of all
the U.S. government agencies operating in that country,
including the CIA. The Eisenhower administration origi-
nated this expanded role for the ambassador, but also issued
a secret directive exempting the CIA from his supervision.
President Kennedy, shortly after taking office, reiterated
that the ambassador should supervise all the agencies and
then sent out a secret letter which said the CIA was not to
be excluded. The Kennedy letter remains in effect today,
but its application varies from country to country.

In nearly every case, the personalities of the ambassador
and the CIA station chief determine the degree to which the
ambassador exercises control over the CIA. Strongwilled

Controlling the CIA

291

diplomats like G. McMunrie Godley, first in the Congo and
then in Laos (where he became known as the "field marshal"),
and Ellsworth Bunker in Vietnam have kept the agency
under close supervision, but they are also staunch advocates
of extensive clandestine operations. Some ambassadors insist,
as did Chester Bowles in India, that they be informed of all
CIA activities, but usually do not try to exert any control
over the operations. Still others, because of a lack of force-
fulness or a lack of interest, give the CIA a free hand and do
not even want to be informed of what the agency is up to.
Again, quoting the Bissell doctrine:

Generally the Ambassador had a right to know of any
covert operations in his jurisdiction, although in special
cases (as a result of requests from the local Chief of
State or the Secretary of State) the [CIA] chief of sta-
tion was instructed to withhold information from the
Ambassador. Indeed, in one case the restriction was
imposed upon the specific exhortation of the Ambassa-
dor in question, who preferred to remain ignorant of
certain activities.

One ambassador, John C. Pritzlaff, Jr., refused to play
such a passive role and, in a fashion highly uncharacteristic
of American envoys, stood up to the CIA. In the process,
Pritzlaff, a political appointee, became something of a hero
to the few State Department officers familiar with the way
he virtually banned CIA covert activities from his country of
assignment, Malta. The problem started early in 1970 when
retired Admiral George Anderson took a trip through the
Mediterranean countries and became alarmed that leftist
Dom Mintoff might win the Maltese elections scheduled for
the end of the year. As a Navy man, Anderson was a strong
sea-power advocate, and he feared Malta might be lost to
N.A.T.O. forces and become a base for the Soviet fleet.
Although he was not yet head of PFIAB, he used his White
House connections to urge the Clandestine Services to inter-
vene in the Maltese elections. The agency was not enthusias-
tic about the project, partly because of its lack of "assets"
on the island, but it agreed to send a clandestine operative
to make a study of how the election could be fixed. Ambassa-
dor Pritzlaff, in telegram after telegram, resisted even this
temporary assignment of an agency operative to his country.

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The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

In the end, the Clandestine Services did not intervene and
Mintoff was elected. N.A.T.O. retained access to the island
through British bases.*

Congress

Congressional control of the CIA can be broken down into
two distinct periods: before and after Watergate. In the agency's
first twenty-six years, the legislative branch was generally
content to vote the CIA more than enough money for its
needs, without seriously questioning how the funds would be
spent. In fact, only a handful of Congressmen even knew the
amount appropriated, since all the money was hidden in the
budgets of other government agencies, mainly the Defense
Department. To be sure, four separate subcommittees of the
House and Senate Armed Services committees were respon-
sible for monitoring the CIA, but their supervision was
minimal or nonexistent. In the House, the names of the
members were long kept secret, but they were generally the
most senior (and thus often the most conservative) men on
their respective committees. (Allen Dulles was reported by
the New York Times in April 1966 to have had "personal
control" over which Congressmen would be selected.) In
August 1971, House Armed Services chairman F. Edward
Hebert of Louisiana broke with past practice and dipped
down his committee's seniority ladder to appoint Lucien
Nedzi, a hard-working liberal from Michigan, head of the
oversight subcommittee. Hubert, however, kept complete
control of the subcommittee's staff, and Nedzi is the only
non-conservative among the panel's five permanent and two
ex officio members. When Hubert made his unusual choice,
it was widely speculated that he was trying to defuse outside
criticism of the subcommittee's performance by naming a
liberal as chairman, and that he felt he could keep Nedzi
isolated. Nedzi had little time for overseeing the CIA during
1972, his first full year as chairman, because he faced tough
primary and re-election challenges. In 1971, he launched a

'Anderson's fears seemed paniatly juslificd. however, in 1971, when Mintoff
precipilaied a mini-crisis by expclhng the N.A.T.O. commander from the
island and by greatly increasing the cost to Britain of keeping its facilities
there. In an incident reminiscent of Cyprus President Makarios' blackmail of
U S intelligence several years before, the U.S. government was forced to
contribute several million dollars to help the British pay the higher rent for
the Maltese bases.

Controlling the CIA

293

comprehensive inquiry into the agency's role in the Watergate
affair, but it remains to be seen whether his subcommittee
will delve any deeper into CIA covert operations than the
House panels have done in the past. In the Senate the
Armed Services and Appropriations subcommittees have tra-
ditionally met together to maintain joint oversight of the
CIA. As is true in the House, the members have almost all
been conservative, aging, military-oriented legislators.

Many Congressmen and Senators — but by no means a
majority — believe that these oversight arrangements are
inadequate, and since 1947 nearly ISO separate pieces of legisla-
tion have been introduced to increase congressional surveil-
lance of the CIA. None has passed either chamber, and the
House has never even had a recorded vote on the subject.
The Senate, by a 59-27 margin in 1956, and by 61-28 in 1966, has
turned down proposals for expanded and more active watch-
dog committees for the agency and the rest of the intelli-
gence community. To strengthen his vote. Senator Richard
Russell, then chairman of the case for maintaining the status
quo at the time of the 1966 Armed Services Committee,
agreed that starting in 1967 the three senior members of the
Foreign Relations Committee would be allowed unofficially
to sit in on the joint oversight subcommittee's meetings. But
after this arrangement was in effect for several years, Sena-
tor John Stennis, Russell's successor as chairman, simply
stopped holding sessions. There was not a single one in
either 1971 or 1972. Stennis is generally believed to have
ended the subcommittee's functions because foreign-policy
liberals J. William Fulbright and Stuart Symington would
have been present for the secret deliberations. Neither man
was trusted at the time by either the CIA or by the conserva-
tive Senators who have kept oversight of the CIA as their
own private preserve. In the absence of any joint subcommit-
tee meetings, the five senior members of the Appropriations
Committee, all of whom were staunch hawks and administra-
tion supporters, met privately to go over the agency's budget.

Senator Symington challenged this arrangement on Novem-
ber 23, 1971, when, without prior warning, he introduced a
floor amendment which would have put a S4 billion limit on
government-wide intelligence spending — roughly $2 billion
less than what the administration was requesting. Although
Symington's amendment was defeated 51-36, it produced per-

294

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

haps the most illuminating debate on intelligence ever heard
in the Senate.

Symington berated the fact that the Senate was being
asked to vote billions of dollars for intelligence with only
five Senators knowing the amount; and in a colloquy with
the Appropriations chairman, the late Allen Ellender,
Symington established that even those five Senators had
limited knowledge of the CIA's operations. Ellender replied
to Symington's question on whether or not the appropria-
tions subcommittee had approved the financing of a 36,000-
man "secret" army in Laos:

I did not know anything about it. ... I never asked, to
begin with, whether or not there were any funds to
carry on the war in this sum the CIA asked for. It never
dawned on me to ask about it. I did see it published in
the newspapers some time ago.

Laos, was, of course, the CIA's largest operation at the
time that supposed overseer Ellender admitted ignorance
about it. Richard Russell, too, had had a similar lack of
interest in what the CIA was doing. He had once even told
CIA Director Helms — privately — that there were certain op-
erations he simply did not want to know about. Senator
Leverett Saltonstall, who served for many years as ranking
Republican on the oversight subcommittee, expressed the
same view publicly in 1966: "It is not a question of reluctance
on the part of CIA officials to speak to us. Instead it is a
question of our reluctance, if you will, to seek information
and knowledge on subjects which 1 personally, as a member
of Congress and as a citizen, would rather not have."

Faced with this rejection of responsibility on the part of
the congressional monitors, the CIA has chosen to keep the
subcommittee largely in the dark about its covert operations —
unless a particular activity, such as the 1%7 black-propaganda
effort against mainland China, has been successful in the
agency's eyes and could be bragged about to the legislators.
Helms did make frequent visits to Capitol Hill to give secret
briefings, but these usually concerned current intelligence
matters and estimates of the communist countries' military
capabilities — not the doings of the Clandestine Services. Yet
Helms won a reputation among lawmakers as a man who

Controlling the CIA

295

provided straight information.* Senator J. William Fulbright,
who sat in on Helms' briefings to the joint oversight commit-
tee until they were discontinued in 1971. described the pro-
ceedings to author Patrick McGarvey for the latter's CM;
The Myth and the Madness:

The ten minute rule is in effect, so the members have
little if any chance to dig deep into a subject. The
director of CIA spends most of the time talking about
the Soviet missile threat and so on. The kind of informa-
tion he provides is interesting, but it really is of little
help in trying to find out what is going on in intelligence.
He actually tells them only what he wants them to
know. It seems to me that the men on the committee
are more interested in shielding CIA from its critics
than in anything else.

Once a year the CIA does come before the appropriations
subcommittees in both houses to make its annual budget
request. These sessions, however, are completely on the
agency's terms. Prior to the meeting, CIA electronics ex-
perts make an elaborate show of sweeping the committee
rooms for bugging devices, and blankets are thrown over the
windows to prevent outside surveillance. The transcripts of
the sessions are considered so secret that copies are locked
up at CIA headquarters. Not one is left with the subcommit-
tees for future study. Committee staff members, who nor-
mally do most of the substantive preparation for hearings,
are banned at the CIA's request.**

*Allhough Helms had been for many years providing current intelligence and
eslimales to congressional committees in secret oral briefings, the CIA offi-
cially opposed legislation introduced in 1972 by Senator John Sherman Cooper
of Kentucky which would have provided the appropriate committees with the
same sort of data in the form of regular CIA reports. The bill was favorably
approved by the Foreign Relations Committee, but subsequently died in
Armed Services. Director-designate William Colby told the latter committee
in July 1973 that he thought this information could be supplied on an informal
basis "without legislation."

**A relatively similar procedure is followed when an individual Senator or
Congressman writes to the CIA about a covert operation. Instead of sending a
letter in return, an agency representative offers to brief the legislator penonally
on the matter, on the condition that no staff members are present. This
procedure puts the busy lawmaker at a marked disadvantage, since his staff is
usually more familiar with the subject than he is — and probably wrote the

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The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

Allen Dulles set the tone for these CIA budget presenta-
tions in the 1950s when he commented to a few assistants
preparing him for his annual appearance, "I'll just tell them
a few war stories." A more current example of the CIA's
evasive tactics occurred in 1966 when the Senate appropria-
tions subcommittee was thought to have soe hard ques-
tions to ask about the growing costs of technical espionage
programs. DCI Helms responded to the senatorial interest
by bringing with him the CIA's Deputy Director for Science
and Technology, Dr. Albert D. "Bud" Wheelon, who loaded
himself up with a bag full of spy gadgets — a camera hidden
in a tobacco pouch, a radio transmitter hidden in false teeth,
a tape recorder in a cigarette case, and so on. This equip-
ment did not even come from Wheelon's part of the agency
but was manufactured by the Clandestine Services; if,
however, the Senators wanted to talk about "technical"
matters. Helms and his assistant were perfectly willing to
distract them with James Bond-type equipment.

Wheelon started to discuss the technical collection programs,
but as he talked he let the Senators inspect the gadgets.
Predictably, the discussion soon turned to the spy parapher-
nalia. One persistent Senator asked two questions about the
new and expensive technical collection systems the CIA was
then putting into operation, but Wheelon deftly turned the
subject back to the gadgets. When the Senator asked his
question a third time. Chairman Russell told him to hold his
inquiry until the CIA men were finished. But the Senators
became so enthralled with the equipment before them that
no more questions were asked.*

In 1967 the CIA, as usual, prepared its budget request with
a dazzling collection of slides and pictures, emphasizing the
agency's role in fighting communism around the world and
producing intelligence on the military threat posed by the
Soviet Union and China. Also included in the "canned"
briefing was a description of the CIA's technical collection
expertise, its work with computers and other information-
processing systems, and even its advanced techniques in
printing — but, again, no "dirty tricks." The presentation was

'Seven years later, the same panel would invescigate the 1971 assistance
furnished by the Oandestine Services toT. Howard Hum and Gordon Liddy
for their "plumbers" operations — assistance comprised of many of the same
gadgets that amused the Senators in 1966.

Controlling the CIA

297

rehearsed several times at CIA headquarters while calls were
awaited from Capitol Hill to set specific dates. A Congress-
man serving on the House appropriations oversight group
was even invited to come out to the agency to see one of the
dry runs. A few days later a staff man on the House panel
telephoned the CIA to say that the Congressman who had
seen the rehearsal said that everything seemed in order and
that the chairman simply did not have the time to hear the
presentation, but that the committee would approve the full
budget request of nearly S7(X) million anyway. Shortly there-
after a similar call came from the Senate committee. The
chairman had apparently been told by his opposite number
in the House that the CIA request seemed reasonable, and
on the strength of the House recommendation the Senate
would also approve the full amount without a hearing.

Thus, in 1967 the CIA did not even appear in front of its
budgetary oversight committees. TTie experience that year
was extreme, but it does illustrate how little congressional
supervision the agency has been subject to over the years.

Many congressional critics of the CIA have advocated
broadening the membership of the CIA oversight subcommit-
tees to include legislators who will hold the agency up to the
same sort of scrutiny that other government departments
receive. They argue that in the equally sensitive field of
atomic energy a joint congressional committee has kept close
track of the Atomic Energy Commission without any breach
in security. However, some liberals who advocate greater
control of the CIA fear that a joint CIA committee analo-
gous to the Joint Atomic Energy Committee might easily be
"captured" by the agency, just as the atomic energy commit-
tee has, to a large extent, been coopted by the AEC.

Those who oppose increased congressional control of the
agency claim that if the CIA is to operate effectively, total
secrecy must be maintained, and that expanding the functions
and the membership of the oversight subcommittees would
mean much greater likelihood of breaches in security. They
fear that larger subcommittees would necessarily lead to the
presence of administration opponents who might exploit
agency secrets for political gains. Moreover, it is said that
friendly foreign intelligence services would be reluctant to
cooperate or share secrets with the agency if they knew that
their activities would be revealed to the American Congress.

No matter what the merits of the arguments for closer

298 The CIA and the Cull of Inlelligence

congressional control, there was no chance that a majority of
either house would vote for any appreciable change until the
Watergate affair broke wide open in early 1973. Suddenly the
long-dormant oversight subcommittees began to meet fre-
quently to investigate the degree of CIA involvement in the
illegal activities sponsored by the White House and the
Committee to Re-Elect the President. The obvious abuses of
power by the administration and its supporters stirred even
conservative legislators into demands for corrective action.
And the administration, in trying to justify its excesses on
the grounds of protecting the "national security" — a justifica-
tion largely unacceptable to Congress — seriously weakened
the position of those who claimed that the CIA's actions
should escape scrutiny on those same "national security"
grounds. Furthermore, there was a widespread public and
media outcry against concentration of power in the White
House, and against President Nixon's penchant for taking
unilateral actions without the approval or even the advice of
Congress. The CIA, as the President's loyal tool — tainted to
some extent by involvement in Watergate-related activities —
also became vulnerable.

The four oversight subcommittees which met so frequently
in the first six months of 1973 are still made up of the same
overwhelmingly conservative members. But, pushed by ei-
ther their own revulsion over Watergate or by public reac-
tion to it, they seem likely to take some action to increase
i'. congressional surveillance of the CIA.

For example, John Stennis, the Senate Armed Services
chairman, declared on July 20, 1973: "The experience of the
CIA in Laos, as well as the more recent disclosures here at
home have caused me to defmitely conclude that the entire
CIA act should be entirely reviewed." This is the same
Stennis who nineteen months earlier, when the CIA's "secret"
war in Laos was at its peak, stated:

This agency is conducted in a splendid way. ... As has
been said, spying is spying. But if we are going to have
an intelligence agency, ... it cannot be run as if you
were running a tax collector's office or the HEW or
some other such department. You have to make up
your mind that you are going to have an intelligence
agency and protect it as such, and shut your eyes some
and take what is coming.

Controlling the CIA

299

Yet, from all indications, Stennis has become sincerely
convinced that the chief executive, on his own, should never
again be able to take the country into a Vietnam-type conflict,
On Octorber 18, 1973, he introduced legislation — while re-
serving his right to change it after study and hearings extend-
ing into 1974 — which would modify the CIA's legal base.
First, it would limit the agency's domestic activities to "those
which are necessary and appropriate to its foreign intelli-
gence mission," apparently defining this in a way to abolish
covert activities in the United States. Second, it would set up
tighter procedures for congressional oversight, while "recog-
nizing essential security requirements."

A simple majority in either chamber would be sufficient to
change the present system of CIA oversight. As much as the
agency wants to keep its activities secret, it would have little
choice but to comply with serious congressional demands for
more information and more supervision. The power of the
purse gives the legislative branch the means to enforce its
will on a reluctant CIA, and even one house standing alone
could use this power as a control mechanism. That is, assum-
ing that Congress is willing to accept the responsibility.

The CIA and the Press

In a recent interview, a nationally syndicated columnist with
close ties to the CIA was asked how he would have reacted
in 1%1 if he had uncovered advance information that the
agency was going to launch the Bay of Pigs invasion of
Cuba. He replied somewhat wistfully, "The trouble with the
establishment is that I would have gone to one of my friends
in the government, and he would have told me why I shouldn't
write the story. And I probably wouldn't have written the
story."

It was rather fitting that this columnist, when queried
about exposing a CIA operation, should have put his answer
in terms of the "establishment" (of which he is a recognized
member), since much of what the American people have
learned — or have not learned — about the agency has been
filtered through an "old-boy network" of journalists friendly
to the CIA. There have been exceptions, but, by and large,
the CIA has attempted to discourage, alter, and even sup-
press independent investigative inquiries into agency activities.

The CIA's principal technique for fending off the press

300

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

has been to wrap itself in the mantle of "national security."
Reporters have been extremely reluctant to write anything
that might endanger an ongoing operation or, in Tom Wicker's
words, "get an agent killed in Timbuktu." The CIA has, for
its part, played upon these completely understandable fears
and used them as a club to convince newsmen that certain
stories should never be written. And many reporters do not
even have to be convinced, either because they already
believe that the CIA's activities are not the kind of news that
the public has a right to know or because in a particular case
they approve of the agency's aims and methods.

For example, on September 23, 1970, syndicated columnist
Charles Bartlett was handed, by a Washington-based official
of ITT, an internal ITT report sent in by the company's two
representatives in Chile, Mai Hendrix and Robert Berrellez.
This eight-page document— marked PERSONAL and confi-
dential — said that the American ambassador to Chile had
received the "green light to move in the name of President
Nixon . . . (with] maximum authority to do all possible —
short of a Dominican Republic-type action — to keep Allende
from taking power." It stated that the Chilean army "has
been assured full material and financial assistance by the
U.S. military establishment" and that ITT had "pledged [its
financial] support if needed" to the anti-Aliende forces. The
document also included a lengthy run-down of the political
situation in Chile.

With the material for an expose in his hands, Bartlett did
not launch an immediate investigation. Instead, he did ex-
actly what ITT hoped he would do: he wrote a column about
the dangers of a "classic Communist-style assumption of
power" in Chile. He did see some hope that "Chile will find
a way to avert the inauguration of Salvador Allende," but
thought there was little the United States could "profitably
do" and that "Chilean politics should be left to the Chileans."
He did not inform his readers that he had documentary
evidence indicating that Chilean politics were being left to
the CIA and ITT.

Asked why he did not write more, Bartlett replied in a
1973 telephone interview, "I was only interested in the politi-
cal analysis. I didn't take seriously the Washington stuff —
the description of machinations within the U.S. government.
[The ITT men who wrote the report] had not been in
Washington; they had been in Chile." Yet, by Bartlett's own

Conirolling I he CIA

301

admission, his September 28 column was based on the ITT
report — in places, to the point of paraphrase. He wrote
about several incidents occurring in Chile that he could not
possibly have verified in Washington. Most reporters will
not use material of this sort unless they can check it out with
an independent source, so Bartlett was showing extraordi-
nary faith in the reliability of his informants. But he used
their material selectively — to write an anti-Allende scare
piece, not to blow the whistle on the CIA and ITT.

An ITT official gave the same report to Time's Pentagon
correspondent, John Mulliken. Mulliken covered neither the
CIA nor Chile as part of his regular beat, and he sent the
ITT document to Time's headquarters in New York for
possible action. As far as he knows. Time never followed up
on the story. He attributes this to "bureaucratic stupidity —
the system, not the poeple." He explains that Time had
shortly before done a long article on Chile, and New York
"didn't want to do any more."

Thus, the public did not learn what the U.S. government
and ITT were up to in Chile until the spring of 1972, when
columnist Jack Anderson published scores of ITT internal
documents concerning Chile. Included in the Anderson papers,
as one of the most important exhibits, was the very same
document that had been given eighteen months earlier to
Bartlett and Time magazine.

Jack Anderson is very much a maverick among Washing-
ton journalists, and he will write about nearly anything he
learns — and can confirm — about the U.S. government and
the CIA. With a few other notable exceptions, however, the
great majority of the American press corps has tended to
stay away from topics concerning the agency's operations.
One of the reasons for this is that the CIA, being an ex-
tremely secretive organization, is a very hard beat to cover.'
Newsmen are denied access to its heavily guarded buildings,
except in tightly controlled circumstances. No media outlet
in the country has ever assigned a full-time correspondent to
the agency, and very few report of its activities even on a
part-time basis. Except in cases where the CIA wants to leak
some information, almost all CIA personnel avoid any con-
tact whatsoever with journalists. In fact, agency policy de-
crees that employees must inform their superiors immediateljl
of any and all conversations with reporters, and the ordinary

302

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

operator who has too many of these conversations tends to
become suspect in the eyes of his co-workers.

For the general view in the CIA (as in some other parts of
the federal government) is that the press is potentially an
enemy force — albeit one that can be used with great success
to serve the agency's purposes. Former Deputy Director for
Intelligence Robert Amory was speaking for most of his
colleagues when in a February 26, 1967, television interview
he said that press disclosures of agency funding of the Na-
tional Student Association and the other private groups were
"a commentary on the immaturity of our society." With the
pronounced Anglophile bias and envy of Britain's Official
Secrets Act so common among high CIA officials, he com-
pared the situation to our "free motherland in England,"
where if a similar situation comes up, "everybody shushes
up in the interest of their national security and . . . what they
think is the interest of the free world civilization."

Former CIA official William J. Barnds* was even more
critical of journalistic probes of the agency in a January I%9
article in the influential quarterly Foreign Affairs:

The diwrlosurc of intelligence activities in the press in
recent years h a clear national liability. Iliese disclo-
sures have created a public awareness that the U.S.
government has, at least ai times, resorted to coven
operations in inappropriate situations, failed to main-
lain secrecy and failed to review ongoing operations
adequately. The public reve lations of those weaknesses,
even though the^y are now part ially cgfre cte'd. ham pers
CIA (and the U.S. govertiment) by liiriTting those w ill-
ing to cooperate with it ant) its activities. As Ions
.su^ aisclos u rer'rffllH ffl IT1 tTTfi pUMic mind, any otricial
effort to improv e ClA'i lllUHe tr^ lik ely to Pa Cktire a s
to SUCCfCtl"

Barnds' admission that the CIA has certain weaknesses is
unusual coming from a former (or present) agency official,
but very few in the CIA would disagree with his statement

'Barnds had been with the agency's Office of National Estimates until he
joined the staff of the Council on Foreign Relations in (he mid-l96()s. In 1968
he was the sccrelai> ai the CFR session where Richard Disscll laid out his
views on covert operations.

Controlling the CIA

303

that press stones about intelligence operations are a "national

liability."

The CIA's concern about how to deal with repwrters and
how to use the press to best advantage dates hack lo the
agency's beginnings. During the IQSOs the agency was ex-
tremely wary of any fonnal relations with the media, and the
standard answer to press inquiries was that the CIA "does
not confirm or deny published reports. "

To be sure, there was a CIA press office, hut it was not a
very important part of the agency's organization. To CIA
insiders, its principal function seemed to be to clip newspaper
articles about the CIA and to forward them to the interested
component of the agency. The press office was largely by-
passed by Director Allen Dulles and a few of his chief aides
who maintained contact with certain influential reporters.

Dulles often met his "friends" of the press on a back-
ground basis, and he and his Clandestine Services chief,
Frank Wisner, were extremely interested in getting across to
the American people the danger posed to the country by
international communism. They stressed the CIA's role in
combating the communist threat, and Dulles liked to brag,
after the fact, about successful agency operations. The re-
porters who saw him were generally fascinated by his war
stories of the intelligence trade. Wisner was particularly
concerned with publicizing anti-communist emigre groups
(many of which were subsidized or organized by the CIA),
and he often encouraged reporters to write about their
activities.

According to an ex-CIA official who worked closely with
Wisner, the refugees from the "captive nations" were used
by the CIA to give credence to the idea that the United
Stateswastruly interested in "rolling back the Iron Curtain."
This same former CIA man recalls Dulles and Wisner fre-
quently telling subordinates, in effect; "Try to do a better
job in influencing the press through friendly intermediaries."

Nevertheless, the agency's press relations during the Dul-
les era were generally low-keyed. Reporters were not in-
clined to write unfavorable or revealing stories about the
CIA, and the agency, for its part, received a good deal of
useful information from friendly newsmen. Reporters like
Joseph Alsop, Drew Pearson, Harrison Salisbury, and scores
of others regularly sat down with CIA experts to be de-
briefed after they returned from foreign travels. These

304

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

newsmen in no way worked for the agency, but they were
glad to provide the incidental information that a traveler
might have observed, such as the number of smokestacks on
a factory or the intensity of traffic on a railroad line. The
Washington bureau chief of a large newspaper remembers
being asked, after he returned from Eastern Europe, "to fill
in the little pieces which might fit into the jigsaw puzzle."
This type of data was quite important to the intelligence
analyst in the days before the technical espionage programs
could supply the same information. The agency's Intelli-
gence Directorate routinely conducted these debriefings of
reporters, as it does today. Selected newsmen, however,
participated in a second kind of debriefing conducted by the
Clandestine Services. In these the emphasis was on the per-
sonalities of the foreign officials encountered by the newsmen
(as part of the unending probe for vulnerabilities) and the
operation of the internal-security systems in the countries
visited.

At the same time the CIA was debriefing newsmen, it was
looking for possible recruits in the press corps or hoping to
place a CIA operator under "deep cover" with a reputable
media outlet. The identities of these bogus "reporters" were
(and are) closely guarded secrets. As late as November 1973,
according to Oswald Johnston's Washington Star-News re-
port (confirmed by other papers), there were still about
forty full-time reporters and free-lancers on the CIA payroll.
Johnston reported that CIA Director Colby had decided to
cut the "five full-time staff correspondents with general-
circulation news organizations," but that the other thirty-five
or so "stringers" and workers for trade publications would
be retained. American correspondents often have much
broader entree to foreign societies than do officials of the
local American embassy, which provides most CIA opera-
tors with their cover, and the agency simply has been unable
to resist the temptation to penetrate the press corps, al-
though the major media outlets have almost all refused to
cooperate with the CIA.

William Attwood, now publisher of Newsday, remembers
vividly that when he was foreign editor of Look during the
19S0s a CIA representative approached him and asked if
Look needed a correspondent in New Delhi. The agency
offered to supply the man for the job and pay his salary.
Attwood turned the agency down.

Controlling the CIA

305

Clifton Daniel, former managing editor of the New York
Times and now that paper's Washington bureau chief, states
that in the late 1950s "I was very surprised to learn that a
correspondent of an obscure newspaper in an obscure part
of the world was a CIA man. That bothered me." Duniel
promptly checked the ranks of Times reporters for similar
agency connections, but found "there did not seem to be
any." He believes that one reason why th'e Times was clean
was that "our people knew they would be fired" if they
worked for the agency.

In 1955 Sam Jaffe applied for a job with CBS News. While
he was waiting for his application to be processed, a CIA
official whom Jaffe Identifies as Jerry Rubin.s visited his
house in California and told him, "If you are willing to work
for us, you are going to Moscow" with CBS. Jaffe was
flabbergasted, since he did not even know at that point if
CBS would hire him, and he assumes that someone at CBS
must have been in on the arrangement or otherwise the
agency would never have known he had applied for work.
Moreover, it would have been highly unusual to send a new
young reporter to such an important overseas post. Rubins
told Jaffe that the agency was "willing to release certain
top-secret Information to you in order that you try and
obtain certain information for us." Jaffe refused and was
later hired by CBS for a domestic assignment.

Before the CIA's successful armed invasion of Guatemala
in 1954, a Time reporter dropped off the staff to participate,
by his own admission, in the agency's paramilitary operations
in that country. After the Guatemalan government had been
overthrown, he returned to the Time offices in New York and
asked for his old job back. According to another Time staffer,
the managing editor asked the returned CIA man if he were
still with the agency. The man said no. The managing editor
asked, "If you were still really with the CIA and I asked you
about It, what would you say?" The returned CIA man
replied, "I'd have to say no." Time rehired him anyway.*

'More recently CIA men have turned up as "reporters" in foreign countries
for little-known publications which could not possibly afford to pay their
salaries without agency assistance. Stanley Karnow, formerly the Washington
Post's Asian correspondent, recalls, 'I remember a guy who came to Korea
with no visible means of support He was supposed to be a correspondent for
a small paper in New York. In a country where k takes years to build up
acquaintances, he immediately had good contacts, and he dined with the CIA
station chief. It was common knowledge he worked for the agency."

306

The CIA and the Culi of Intelligence

The Dulles years ended with two disasters for the CIA
that newspiipers learned of in advance but refused to share
fully with their readers. First came the shooting down of the
U-2 spy plane over the Soviet Union in 1960. Chalmers
Roberts, long the Washington Post's diplomatic correspondent,
confirms in his book First Rough Draft that he and "some
other newsmen" knew about the U-2 flights in the late 1950s
and "remained silent." Roberts explains, "Retrospectively,
it seems a close question as to whether this was the right
decision, but I think it probably was. We took the position
that the national interest came before the story because we
knew the United States very much needed to discover the
secrets of Soviet missilery."

Most reporters at the time would have agreed with Rich-
ard Bissell that premature disclosure would have forced the
Soviets "to take action." Yet Bissell admitted that "after
five days" the Soviets were fully aware that the spy planes
were overflying their country, and that the secrecy main-
tained by the Soviet and American governments was an
example "of two hostile governments collaborating to keep
operations secret from the general public on both sides."

TTie whole U-2 incident may well have been a watershed
event. For much of the American press and public it was the
first indication that their government lied, and it was the
opening wedge in what would grow during the Vietnam
years into the "credibility gap." But as the Eisenhower
administration came to an end, there was still a national
consensus that the fight against communism justified virtu-
ally any means. The press was very much a part of the
consensus, and this did not start to crack until it became
known that the CIA was organizing an armed invasion of
Cuba.

Five months before the landing took place at the Bay of
Pigs, the Nation published a secondhand account of the
agency's efforts to train Cuban exiles for attacks against
Cuba and called upon "all U.S. news media with correspon-
dents in Guatemala," where the invaders were being trained,
to check out the story. The New York Times responded on
January 10, 1961, with an article describing the training, with
U.S. assistance, of an anti-Castro force in Guatemala. At
the end of the story, which mentioned neither the CIA nor a
possible invasion, was a charge by the Cuban Foreign Minis-
ter that the U.S. government was preparing "mercenaries"

Conirolling the CIA

307

in Guatemala and Florida for military action against Cuba.
Turner Catledge, then the managing editor of the Times,
declared in his book My Life and The Times: "I don't think
that anyone who read the story would have doubted that
something was in the wind, thai the United States was deeply
involved, or that the New York Times was onto the story."

As the date for the invasion approached, the New Repub-
lic obtained a comprehensive account of the preparations for
the operation, but the liberal magazine's editor-in-chief. Gil-
bert Harrison, became wary of the security implications and
submitted the article to President Kennedy for his advice.
Kennedy asked that it not be printed, and Harrison, a friend
of the President, complied. At about the same time. New
York Times reporter Tad Szulc uncovered nearly the com-
plete story, and the Times made preparations to carry it on
April 7, 1961, under a four-column headline. But Times pub-
lisher Orvil Dryfoos and Washington bureau chief James
Reston both objected to the article on national-security
grounds, and it was edited to eliminate all mention of CIA
involvement or an "imminent" invasion. The truncated story,
which mentioned only that 5,000 to 6,000 Cubans were being
trained in the United States and Central America "for the
liberation of Cuba," no longer merited a banner headline
and was reduced to a single column on the front page. Times
editor Clifton Daniel later explained that Dryfoos had or-
dered the story toned down "above all, [out of| concern for
the safety of the men who were preparing to offer their lives
on the beaches of Cuba."

Times reporter Szulc states that he was not consulted
about the heavy editing of his article, and he mentions that
President Kennedy made a personal appeal to publisher
Dryfoos not to run the story. Yet, less than a month after
the invasion, at a meeting where he was urging newspaper
editors not to print security information, Kennedy was able
to say to the Times' Catledge, "If you had printed more
about the operation, you would have saved us from a colos-
sal mistake."

The failure of the Bay of Pigs cost CIA Director Dulles
his job, and he was succeeded in November 1961 by John
McCone. McCone did little to revamp the agency's policies
in dealing with the press, although the matter obviously
concerned him, as became evident when he reprimanded
and then transferred his press officer, who he felt had been

308

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

too forthcoming with a particul.ir reporter. In McCone's first
weeks at the agency, the New York Times got wind of the
fact that the CIA was training Tibetans in paramilitary tech-
niques at an agency base in Colorado, but, according to
David Wise's account in The Politics of Lying, the Office of
the Secretary of Defense "pleaded" with the Times to kill
the story, which it did. In the Cuban missile crisis of 1962,
President Kennedy again prevailed upon the Times not to
print a story — this time, the news that Soviet missiles had
been installed in Cuba, which the Times had learned of at
least a day before the President made his announcement to
the country.*

Then, in 1964, McCone was faced with the problem of how to
deal with an upcoming book about the CIA, and his response
was an attempt to do violence to the First Amendment.

The book was The Invisible Government, by reporters
David Wise of the A'eiv York Herald Tribune and Thomas
Ross of the Chicago Sun-Times. Their work provided an
example of the kind of reporting on the agency that other
journalists might have done but had failed to do. In short, it
was an example of investigative reporting at its best and,
perhaps as a result, it infuriated the CIA.

McCone and his deputy. Lieutenant General Marshall
Carter, both personally telephoned Wise and Ross's publisher.
Random House, to raise their strong objections to publica-
tion of the book. Then a CIA official offered to buy up
the entire first printing of over 15,000 books. Calling this
action "laughable," Random House's president, Bennett
Cerf, agreed to sell the agency as many books as it wanted,
but stated that additional printings would be made for the
public. The agency also approached Look magazine, which
had planned to run excerpts from the book, and, according
to a spokesman, "asked that some changes be made — things
they considered to be inaccuracies. We made a number of
changes but do not consider that they were significant."

'According lo the Timti M»i Frankel. writing in the Winter 1973 Columbia
Forum, there was still a feeling that the paper had been "remiss" In withhold-
ing information on the Bay of Pigs, so the Times extracted a promise from (he
President thai while the paper remained silent he would "shed no blood and
start no war." Frankel notes that "no such bargain was ever struck again,
though many officials made overtures. The essential ingredient was trust, and
thai was lost somewhere between Dallas and Tonkin."

Controlling the CIA

309

The final chapter in the agency attack against The Invisi-
ble Government came in 196S when the CIA circulated an
unattributed document on "The Soviet and Communist Bloc
Defamation Campaign" to various members of Congress
and the press. l~his long study detailed the many ways used
by the KGB to discredit the CIA, including the "development
and milking of Western journalists. Americans figure promi-
nently among these." The study singled out as an example of
KGB disinformation a Soviet radio broadcast that quoted
directly from The Invisible Government. The agency's mes-
sage was not too subtle, but then the CIA never put its name
on the document.

when Richard Helms took over the agency in 1966, press
relations changed noticeably. Helms himself had been a
reporter with United Press in Germany before World War
II, and he thought of himself as an accomplished journalist.
He would tell his subordinates, when the subject of the press
came up in the agency's inner councils, that he understood
reporters' problems, how their minds worked, what the CIA
could and could not do with them. He had certain writing
habits (which may have originated either with a strict bureau
chief or a strict high-school English teacher) which set him
apart from others in the clandestine part of the agency,
where writing is considered a functional, as opposed to a
literary, skill. For instance, he would not sign his name to
any document prepared for him that included a sentence
beginning with the words "however" or "therefore."

It soon became clear within the agency that Helms was
intent on taking care of most of the CIA's relations with the
press himself. Acutely aware that the agency's image had
been badly tarnished by the Bay of Pigs and other blown
operations during the early 1960s, he was determined to
improve the situation. He later told a congressional committee,
"In our society even a clandestine outfit cannot stray far
from the norms. If we get . . . the public, the press or the
Congress against us, we can't hack it."

So Helms began to cultivate the press. He started a series
of breakfasts, lunches, and occasional cocktail and dinner
parties for individual reporters and groups of them. On days
when he was entertaining a gathering of journalists, he would
often devote part of his morning staff meeting to a discus-
sion of the seating arrangements and make suggestions as to

310

The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

which CIA official would be the most compatible eating
partner for which reporter. While a few senior clandestine
personnel were invited to these affairs, Helms made sure
that the majority came from the CIA's analytical and techni-
cal branches. As always, he was trying to portray the agency
as a predominantly non-clandestine organization.

Helms' invitations were not for every reporter. He concen-
trated on what the New York Times' John Finney calls the
"double-domes — the bureau chiefs, columnists, and other
opinion makers." David Wise, who headed the New York
Herald Tribune's Washington staff, has a similar impression:
"In almost every Washington bureau, there's one guy who
has access to the agency on a much higher level than the
press officer. Other reporters who call up get the runaround."
Finney states that Helms and his assistants would "work
with flattery on the prestige of these key journalists. CBS
News' Marvin Kalb, who attended several of Helms' sessions
with the press (and who was recently bugged by the Nixon
administration), recalls that Helms "had the capacity for
astonishing candor but told you no more than he wanted to
give you. He had this marvelous way of talking, of suggesting
things with his eyes. Yet, he usually didn't tell you anything."

Helms' frequent contact with reporters was not a sinister
thing. He was not trying to recruit them into nefarious
schemes for the CIA. Rather, he was making a concerted
effort to get his and his agency's point of view across to the
press and, through them, to the American public — a com-
mon activity among top government officials. Furthermore,
Helms was an excellent news source — for his friends. Colum-
nist Joseph Kraft (another Nixon-administration bugging
victim) generally sums up the view of Helms by reporters
who saw him frequently: "I wanted to see Helms a lot
because he was talking with the top men in government. He
was a good analyst — rapid, brief, and knowledgeable about
what was going on." Kraft recalls that Helms was the only
government official who forecast that South Vietnamese Presi-
dent Thieu would successfully block implementation of the
Vietnamese peace accords until after the 1972 American
election, and other reporters tell similar stories of Helms
being among the most accurate high government sources
available on matters like Soviet missiles or Chinese nuclear
testing. He did not usually engage in the exaggerated talk

Controlling the CIA

311

about communist threats that so often characterizes "informed
sources" in the Pentagon, and he seemed to have less of an
operational ax to grind than other Washington officials.

The source of a news leak is not usually revealed in the
newspapers. Yet when Helms, or any other government
official, gives a "not-for -attribution" briefing to reporters,
he always has a reason for doing so — which is not necessarily
based on a desire to get the truth out to the American
people. He may leak to promote or block a particular policy,
to protect a bureaucratic flank, to launch a "trial balloon,"
to pass a message to a foreign government, or simply to
embarrass or damage an individual. Most reporters are aware
that government officials play these games; nevertheless, the
CIA plays them more assiduously, since it virtually never
releases any information overtly. The New York Times Wash-
ington bureau chief, Clifton Daniel, notes that although the
agency issues no press releases, it leaks information "to
support its own case and to serve its own purposes. ... It
doesn't surprise me that even secret bureaucrats would do
that." Daniel says, however, that he "would accept material
not-for-attribution if the past reliability of the source is good.
But you have to be awfully careful that you are not being
used."

In early 1968, Time magazine reporters were doing re-
search on a cover story on the Soviet navy. According to
Time's Pentagon correspondent, John Mulliken, neither the
White House nor the State Department would provide infor-
mation on the subject for fear of giving the Soviets the
impression that the U.S. government was behind a move to
play up the threat posed by the Soviet fleet. Mulliken says
that, with Helms' authorization, CIA experts provided Time
with virtually all the data it needed. Commenting on the
incident Five years later, Mulliken recalls, "I had the impres-
sion that the CIA was saying 'the hell with the others' and
was taking pleasure in sticking it in." He never did find out
exactly why Helms wanted that information to come out at
that particular time when other government agencies did
not; nor, of course, did Time's readers, who did not even
know that the CIA was the source of much of the article
which appeared on February 23, 1968.

From the days of Henry Luce and Allen Dulles, Time had
always had close relations with the agency. In more recent

312

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

years, the magazine's chief Washington correspondent, Hugh
Sidey, relates, "With McCone and Helms, we had a set-up
that when the magazine was doing something on the CIA,
we went to them and put it before them. . . . We were never
misled."

Similarly, when Newsweek decided in the fall of 1971 to do
a cover story on Richard Helms and "The New Espionage,"
the magazine, according to a Newsweek staffer, went directly
to the agency for much of its information. And the article,
published on November 22, 1971, generally reflected the line
that Helms was trying so hard to sell: that since "the latter
1960s ... the focus of attention and prestige within CIA"
had switched from the Clandestine Services to the analysis of
intelligence, and that "the vast majority of recruits are bound
for" the Intelligence Directorate. This was, of course, writ-
ten at a time when over two thirds of the agency's budget
and personnel were devoted to covert operations and their
support (roughly the same percentage as had existed for the
preceding ten years). Newsweek did uncover several pre-
viously unpublished anecdotes about past covert operations
(which made the CIA look good) and published at least one
completely untrue statement concerning a multibillion-dollar
technical espionage program. Assuming that the facts for
this statement were provided by "reliable intelligence sources,"
it probably represented a CIA disinformation attempt de-
signed to make the Russians believe something untrue about
U.S. technical collection capabilities.

Under Helms, the CIA also continued its practice of inter-
vening with editors and publishers to try to stop publication
of books either too descriptive or too critical of the agency.
In April 1972 this book — as yet unwritten — was enjoined;
two months later, the number-two man in the Clandestine
Services, Cord Meyer, Jr., visited the New York offices of
Harper & Row, Inc., on another anti-book mission. The
publisher had announced the ' forthcoming publication of a
book by Alfred McCoy called The Politics of Heroin in
Southeast Asia, charging the agency with a certain degree of
complicity in the Southeast Asian drug traffic. Meyer asked
old acquaintances among Harper & Row's top management
to provide him with a copy of the book's galley proofs.
While the CIA obviously hoped to handle the matter infor-
mally among friends. Harper & Row asked the agency for
official confirmation of its request. The CIA's General

Conirolling the CIA

313

Counsel, Lawrence Houston, responded with a letter of July
5, 1972, that while the agency's intervention "in no way
affects the right of a publisher to decide what to publish . . .
I find it difficult to believe . . . that a responsible publisher
would wish to be associated with an attack on our Govern-
ment involving the vicious inter-national drug traffic without
at least trying to ascertain the facts." McCoy maintained that
the CIA had "no legal right to review the book" and that
"submitting the manuscript to the CIA for prior review
is to agree to take the first step toward abandoning the First
Amendment protection against prior censorship." Harper &
Row apparently disagreed and made it clear to McCoy that
the book would not be published unless first submitted.
Rather than find a new publisher at that late date, McCoy
went along. He also gave the entire story to the press, which
was generally critical of the CIA.

The agency listed its objections to Harper & Row on July
28, and, in the words of the publisher's vice president and
general counsel, B. Brooks Thomas, the agency's criticisms
"were pretty general and we found ourselves rather under-
whelmed by them." Harper & Row proceeded to publish the
book — unchanged — in the middle of August.

The CIA has also used the American press more directly
in its efforts against the KBG. On October 2, 1971, the week
after the British government expelled 105 Soviet officials
from England because of their alleged intelligence activities,
the New York Times ran a front-page article by Benjamin
Welles about Soviet spying around the world. Much of the
information in the article came from the CIA, and it
mentioned, among other things, that many of the Russians
working at the United Nations were KGB operators. Accord-
ing to Welles, the agency specifically "fingered as a KGB
man" a Russian in the U.N. press office, Vladimir P.
Pavlichenko, and asked that he be mentioned in the article.
Welles complied and included a paragraph of biographical
information on the Russian, supplied by the CIA. Ten days
later the Soviet Union made an official protest to the U.S.
government about the "slanderous" reports in the American
press concerning Soviet officials employed at the U.N.

The Times' charges about espionage activities of the Sovi-
ets at the U.N. were almost certainly accurate. But, as a
Washington-based media executive familiar with the case
states, "The truth of the charges has nothing to do with the

314

The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

question of whether an American newspaper should allow
itself to become involved in the warfare between opposing
intelligence services without giving its readers an idea of
what is happening. If the CIA wants to make a public
statement about a Soviet agent at the U.N. or the U.S.
government wants to expel the spy for improper activities,
such actions would be legitimate subjects for press coverage —
but to cooperate with the agency in Tingering' the spy,
without informing the reader, is at best not straight-forward
reporting."

The CIA has often made communist defectors available to
selected reporters so news stories can be written (and propa-
ganda victories gained). As was mentioned earlier, most of
these defectors are almost completely dependent on the
CIA, and are carefully coached on what they can and cannot
say. Defectors unquestionably are legitimate subjects of the
press's attention, but it is unfortunate that their stories are
filtered out to the American people in such controlled
circumstances.

David Wise remembers an incident at the New York Her-
ald Tribune in the mid-1960s when the CIA called the paper's
top officials and arranged to have a Chinese defector made
available to reporters. According to Wise, CIA officials
"brought him down from Langley [for the interview] and
then put him back on ice." Similarly, in 1967 the agency
asked the Times' Welles to come out to CIA headquarters to
talk to the Soviet defector Lieutenant Colonel Yevgeny
Runge. On November 10 Welles wrote two articles based on
the interview with Runge and additional material on the
KGB supplied by CIA officers. But Welles also included in
his piece several paragraphs discussing the CIA's motivation
in making Runge available to the press. The article men-
tioned that at least some U.S. intelligence officials desired
"to counter the international attention, much of it favorable,
surrounding the Soviet Union's 50th anniversary," which was
then taking place. Publicizing the defection, Welles continued,
"also gave United States intelligence men a chance to focus
public attention on what they consider a growing emphasis
on the use of 'illegal' Soviet agents around the world."

According to Welles, these paragraphs stating, in effect,
that the CIA was exploiting Runge's defection for its own
purposes infuriated the agency, and he was "cut off by his
CIA sources. He experienced "long periods of coolness"

Coturolling the CIA

315

and was told by friends in the agency that Helms had person-
ally ordered that he was to be given no stories for several
months.

The CIA is perfectly ready to reward its friends. Besides
provision of big news breaks such as defector stories, se-
lected reports may receive "exclusives" on everything from
U.S. government foreign policy to Soviet intentions. Hal
Hendrix, described by three different Washington reporters
as a known "friend" of the agency, won a Pulitzer Prize for
his 1962 Miami Daily News reporting of the Cuban missile
crisis.* Much of his "inside story" was truly inside: it was
based on CIA leaks.

Because of the CIA's clever handling of reporters and
because of the personal views held by many of those report-
ers and their editors, most of the American press has at least
tacitly gone along, until the last few years, with the agency
view that covert operations are not a proper subject for
journalistic scrutiny. The credibility gap arising out of the
Vietnam war, however, may well have changed the attitude
of many reporters. The New York Times' Tom Wicker
credits the Vietnam experience with making the press
"more concerned with its fundamental duty." Now that
most reporters have seen repeated examples of government
lying, he believes, they are much less likely to accept CIA
denials of involvement in covert operations at home and
abroad. As Wicker points out, "Lots of people today would
believe that the CIA overthrows governments," and most
journalists no longer "believe in the sanctity of classified
material." In the case of his own paper, the New York
Times, Wicker feels that "the Pentagon Papers made the big
difference."

The unfolding of the Watergate scandal has also opened
up the agency to increased scrutiny. Reporters have dug
deeply into the CIA's assistance to the White House
"plumbers" and the attempts to involve the agency in the
Watergate cover-up. Perhaps most important, the press has
largely rejected the "national security" defense used by the
White House to justify its actions. With any luck at all, the

'This is the same Hal Hendiix who later joined ITT and sent the memo
saying President Nixon had given (he "green lighl" For covert U.S. interven-
tion in Chile. See p. 3(X).

316

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

American people can look forward to learning from the
news media what their government — even its secret part — is
doing. As Congress abdicates its responsibility, and as the
President abuses his responsibility, we have nowhere else to
turn.

11.

CONCLUSIONS

In the eyes of posterity it will inevitably seem that ,
in safeguarding our freedom, we destroyed it: that
the vast clandestine apparatus we built up to probe
our enemies' resources and intentions only served
in the end to confuse our own purposes, that the
practice of deceiving others for the good of the
state led infallibly to our deceiving ourselves: and
that the vast army of intelligence personnel built
up to execute these purposes were soon caught up
in the web of their own sick fantasies, with disas-
trous consequences to them and us.

— MALCOLM MUCCnRIDCF.
May 1966

"It is a multi-purpose, clandestine arm of power . . . more
than an intelligence or counterintelligence organization. It is
an instrument for subversion, manipulation, and violence,
for the secret intervention in the affairs of other countries."
Allen Dulles wrote those words about the KGB in 1963 so
that Americans would better understand the nature of the
Soviet security service. His description was a correct one,
but he could — just as accurately — have used the same terms
to describe his own CIA. He did not, of course, because
the U.S. leaders of Dulles' generation generally tried to
impute the worst possible methods and motives to the forces
of international communism, while casting the "defensive
actions of the free world" as honest and democratic. Both
sides, however, resorted to ruthless tactics. Neither was re-
luctant to employ trickery, deceit, or, in Dulles' phrase,
"subversion, manipulation, and violence." They both oper-
ated clandestinely, concealing their activities not so much
from the "opposition" (they couldn't) as from their own
peoples. Secrecy itself became a way of life, and it could not
be challenged without fear of a charge that one was unpatri-
otic or unmindful of the "national security."

318

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

In the dark days of the Cold War the communist threat
was real to most Americans. Sincere men believed that the
enemy's dirtiest tricks must be countered. Fire was to be
fought with fire, and America's small tWxc corps of intelli-
gence professionals claimed they knew how to do this. The
public and the country's leader.s were willing to go along, if
not always enthusiastically, at least without serious opposition.
Consequently, clandestine operatives from the United States
as well as the Soviet Union were turned loose in virtually
every nation in the world. Each side won secret victories,
but the overall results were decidedly mixed. For its part,
the CIA played some role in forestalling a communist take-
over of Western Europe, but the agency's record in the
Middle East, Asia, and elsewhere in the world left much to
be desired.

When the CIA's invaders were defeated in 1961 on the
beaches of the Bay of Pigs, it should have been a signal to
the country that something was wrong — both with the CIA
and the government that directed the secret agency's activities.
It should have been clear that events in the Third World
could (and should) no longer be easily and blatantly manipu-
lated by Washington. It should have been obvious that the
times were rapidly changing; that the fears, following on the
heels of World War II, that the "communist monolith" was
on the verge of dominating the "free world" were invalid. It
should have been apparent to the American public that the
CIA was living in the past.

Columnist Tom Braden, a former high-ranking CIA co-
vert expert, reflecting on the latter-day life of the CIA,
wrote in January 1973: "Josef .Stalin's decisi on to attem pt
^onyuMt^ Western F.u nipe by manipulation, the use of tronts
and the purc:ha5ir]£,QQovaliv turn ed ihe Aeency into a t^ouse
of JTr iy lujlts. It was necessary. A bsolutely necessa ry, injny
view. B uj it lasted long "aTlfrfTHe ne cessity w as gone."""

Yet after ^e initial puSTTc outcry over tne" Cuban fiasco,
the personnel shake-up at the agency and the high-level
reviews of its performance ordered by President Kennedy
had little effect. The CIA went back to operating essen-
tially the same way it had for the previous decade, again
with at least the tacit acceptance of the American public.
Not until the Indochinese war shocked and outraged a signifi-
cant part of the population were the CIA's tactics, such as
secret subsidies, clandestine armies, and covert coups, seri-

Conclusions

319

ously called into question. Now Watergate has brought the
issue of an inadequately controlled secret intelligence agency
home to us. The clandestine techniques developed over a
quarter-century of Cold War have, at last, been dramatically
displayed for the people of this country, and the potential
danger of a CIA which functions solely at the command of
the President has been demonstrated to the public.

The CIA has a momentum of its own, and its operatives
continue to ply their trade behind their curtain of secrecy.
They do not want to give up their covert activities, their
dirty tricks. They believe in these methods and they rather
enjoy the game. Of course, without a presidential mandate
they would have to stop, but the country has not had a chief
executive since the agency's inception who has not believed
in the fundamental need and rightness of CIA intervention
in the internal affairs of other nations. When a President has
perceived American interest to be threatened in some far-
away land, he has usually been willing to try to change the
course of events by sending in the CIA. That these covert
interventions often are ineffective, counterproductive, or dam-
aging to the national interest has not prevented Presidents
from attempting them.

"/ don't see why we need to stand by and watch a country
go Communist due to the irresponsibility of its own people,"
declared Henry Kissinger at a meeting authorizing, with the
concurrence of President Nixon, the ultimately unsuccessful
CIA interference in the 1970 Chilean elections. Kissinger and
Nixon were concerned with what they believed to be a
legitimate end — preventing a Marxist from being elected
President of Chile — and the means employed mattered little
to them, as long as secrecy could be maintained.

The New CIA Director, William Colby, has indicated on
the public record that he intends to keep the agency function-
ing largely as it has in the past (while pledging to shun future
"Watergates"). When Senator Harold Hughes asked him
where the line should be drawn between the use of CIA
paramilitary warriors and the regular U.S. armed forces,
Colby replied that the dividing line should be "at the point
in which the United States acknowledges involvement in
such activities." Senator Hughes specifically put this answer
into perspective when he said on August 1, 1973, "Mr. Colby

320 The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

believes that CIA-run military operations are perfectly ac-
ceptable as long as they can be concealed."

Colby's — and the CIA's and the Nixon administration's —
view that "deniability" somehow allows the United States a
free hand for covert intervention abroad (and at home) is an
anachronistic hangover from the Cold War. Perhaps such
actions could once have been justified when the future of the
country was seemingly at stake, but no such threat now
looms on the horizon. The only two foreign powers with the
potential to threaten the United States — the Soviet Union
and China — have long ceased to be meaningful targets of
CIA secret operations. Instead, the agency works mainly in
the Third World, in nations that pose no possible threat to
Americiin security, in Chile, the Congo. Iran, . . . Cambodia,
Laos. Vietnam, the Philippines.)

The CIA is not defending our national security. It seeks
rather to maintain the status quo, to hold back the cultural
clock, in areiis that are of Tittle or no significance to the
American people. These efforts are often doomed to failure.
In fact, at least since 1961. the CIA has lost many more
battles than it has won, even by its own standards. Further-
more, the very fact that the United States 0)ierates an active
CIA around the world has done incalculable harm to the
nation's international position. Not only have millions of
people abroad been alienated by the CIA's activities, but so
have been a large number of Americans, especially young
people.

The time has come for the United States to stand openly
behind its actions overseas, to lead by example rather than
manipulation. The changeover might disturb those govern-
ment officials who believe in the inherent right of the United
States to exercise its power everywhere, clandestinely when
that seems necessary; but in the long run non-interference
and forthrightness would enhance America's international
prestige and position.

Even in an era when the public is conditioned to ever
expanding and ever more expensive government activities,
the S6 billion yearly cost of American intelligence represents
a significant slice of the national treasury. The government
spends more money on the various forms of spying than it
does on the war against crime and drugs, community devel-
opment and housing, mass transportation systems, and even
the country's overt international programs carried out by the

Concliuions

321

State Department, the USIA, and the AID combined. Yet,
unlike other federal activities, information on the intelli-
gence community — how much money is being spent and
where the money goes — is systematically withheld from the
American people and all but a handful of Congressmen.
Behind this wall of secrecy (which exists as much to conceal
waste and inefficiency as to protect "national security") intel-
ligence has grown far beyond the needs of the nation.

The time has come to demysticize the intelligence profres-
sion, to disabuse Americans of the ideas that clandestine
agents somehuw make the world a safer place to live in, that
excessive secrecy is necessary to protect the national security.
These notions simply are not true; the CIA and the other
intelligence agencies have merely used them to build their
own covert empire. The U.S. intelligence community per-
forms a vital service in keeping track of and analyzing the
military capability and strengths of the Soviet Union and
China, but its other functions — the CIA's dirty tricks and
classical espionage — are, on the whole, a liability for the
country, on both practical and moral grounds.

But because of bureaucratic tribalism, vested interests,
and the enormous size of the intelligence community, inter-
nal reform never makes more than a marginal dent in the
community's operations. The people in charge like things
essentially as they are, and they have never been subjected
to the kind of intense outside pressure which leads to change
in our society. Presidents, furthermore, have not wanted to
greatly disturb the existing system because they have always
wanted more, if not better, intelligence; because they were
afraid of opening up the secret world of intelligence to
public scrutiny; because they did not want to risk losing their
personal action arm for intervention abroad.

The Congress, which has the constitutional power and,
indeed, the responsibility to monitor the CIA and U.S.
intelligence, has almost totally failed to exercise meaningful
control. Intelligence has always been the sacred shibboleth
which could not be disturbed without damaging the "national
security," and, despite loud protests from a few outspoken
critics, neither legislative house has been willing to question
seriously the scope or the size of intelligence activities. Yet,
if there is to be any real, meaningful change in the intelli-
gence community, it must come from Congress, and, judging
from past experience. Congress will act only if prodded by

322

The CIA and the Cult of Inielligence

public opinion. The Watergate affair has, to some extent,
played such a role, and the full review of the CIA's secret
charter promised by Senate Armed Services chairman John
Stennis should be the first step in limiting the CIA's covert
operations and cutting down the duplication and inefficiency
of the rest of the community.

Congress should require the various intelligence agencies
to keep it informed of the information collected. This kind
of data should be routinely supplied to the legislative branch
so it can properly carry out its foreign policy functions and
vote funds for the national defense. If the same information
can be given to foreign governments and selectively leaked to
the press by administrations in search of votes on military-
spending issues, then there is no "security" reason why it
must be denied to the Congress. The Soviets know that U.S.
spy satellites observe their country and that other electronic
devices monitor their activities; it makes little sense to clas-
sify the intelligence gathered "higher than top secret." No
one is asking that technical details such as how the cameras
work be given to the Congress or made public — but the
excessive secrecy which surrounds the finished intelligence
product could certainly be eased without in any way limiting
the nation's ability to collect raw intelligence data by techni-
cal means.

As for the CIA proper. Congress should take action to
limit the agency to the role originally set out for it in the
National Security Act of 1947 — naf p^ y, i/ie CI A s houl d con -
ce^ itself excl usj^vej^ wi_th cQ Ofdin atipg..an J evajuannjE
mtelTi^ence" ^^nh t: minim um, if clande sjins ac^j vitT^ mu st
he continued ^yemni^iii^^lif: jJEcralTonal^^arl

ofTWCiA should be separated from the noncove fTcom-
ponents. In the analytical and technical field tfTe agency can
make'its most important contribution to the national security,
but these functions have been neglected and at times dis-
torted by the clandestine operatives who have almost always
been in control of the CIA. Intelligence should not be pre-
sented to the nation's policy-makers by the same men who
are trying to justify clandestine operations. The temptation
to use field information selectively and to evaluate informa-
tion to serve operational interests can be irresistible to the
most honest men — let alone to the clandestine operatives.

However, the best solution would be not simply to sepa-
rate the Clandestine Services from the rest of the CIA, but

Conclusions

323

to abolish them completely. The few clandestine functions
which still serve a useful purpose could be transferred to
other government departments, but. for the most part, such
activities should be eliminated. This would deprive the gov-
ernment of its arsenal of dirty tricks, but the republic could
easily sustain the loss — and be the better for it.

The Clandestine Services' espionage operations using hu-
man agents have already been made obsolete by the techni-
cal collection systems which , along with open sources, supply
the United States government with almost ail the informa-
tion it needs on the military strength and deployments of the
Soviet Union and China. The truly valuable technical
systems — the satellites and electronic listening devices — should
be maintained, although without the present duplication and
bureaucratic inefficiency. Since Oleg Penkovsky's arrest by
Soviet authorities in 1962, there has been no CIA spy who
has supplied the United States with important information
about any communist power, and it is difficult to justify the
expenditure of over SI billion in the last decade for classical
espionage simply on the hope that another Penkovsky will
someday offer himself up as a CIA agent. Assuming that the
CIA's most valuable agents will continue to be volunteers —
"walk-ins" and defectors — a small office attached to the
State Department and embassy contacts could be established
to receive the information supplied by these sources.

While the CIA has been much more successful in penetrat-
ing the governments of the Third World and some of
America's allies, the information received is simply not that
important and can be duplicated to some extent through
diplomatic and open sources. While it might be interesting
to know about the inner workings of a particular Latin
American, Asian, or African country, this intelligence has
little practical use if the CIA has no intention of manipulating
the local power structure.

The Clandestine Services' counterespionage functions should
be taken over by the FBI. Protecting the United States
against foreign spies is supposed to be the bureau's function
anyway, and the incessant game-playing with foreign intelli-
gence services — the provocations, deceptions, and double
agents — ^would quickly become a relic of the past if the CIA
were not involved in its own covert operations. Playing chess
with the taxpayers' money against the KGB is unquestiona-
bly a fascinating exercise for clandestine operatives, but one

324

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

that can properly be handled by the internal-security agency
of the United States, the FBI.

As for the CIA's paramilitary tasks, they have no place in
an intelligence agency, no place in a democratic society.
Under the Constitution, only Congress has the power to
declare war, and the United States should never again be-
come involved in armed conflict without full congressional
approval and public knowledge. If "American advisors" are
needed to assist another country legitimately, they can be
supplied by the Pentagon. The other forms of covert action —
propaganda, subversion, manipulation of governments — should
simply be discontinued. These are more often than not coun-
terproductive and, even when successful, contrary to the
most basic American ideals. The CIA's proprietary compa-
nies should be shut down or sold off. The agency would have
little use for one of the largest aircraft networks in the world
if it were not constantly intervening in foreign countries. The
proprietaries, with their unregulated profits, potential con-
flicts of interest, and doubtful business practices, should in
no case be allowed to continue operations.

The other countries of the world have a fundamental right
not to have any outside power interfere in their internal
affairs. The United States, which solemnly pledged to up-
hold this right when it ratified the United Nations charter,
should now honor it. The mechanisms used to intervene
overseas ignore and undermine American constitutional pro-
cesses and pose a threat to the democratic system at home.
The United States is surely strong enough as a nation to be
able to climb out of the gutter and conduct its foreign policy
in accordance with the ideals that the country was founded
upon.

APPENDIX

APPENDIX
THE BISSELL PHILOSOPHY

Minutes or the 1968 "Bissell Meeting" at the Coun-
cil on Foreign Relations as reprinted by the Africa
Research Group

The third meeting of the Discussion Group on Intelligence
and Foreign Policy was held at the Harold Pratt House on
January 8, 1968, at 5:00 p.m. Present were: Richard M.
Bissell, Jr., Discussion Leader; Douglas Dillon, Chairman;
William J. Barnds, Secretary; William R. Harris, Rapporteur;
George Agree, Frank Allschut, Robert Amory, Jr., Meyer
Bernstein, Col. Sidney B. Berry, Jr., Allen W. Dulles, George
S. Franklin, Jr., Eugene Fubini, Juliiis C. Holmes, Thomas
L. Hughes, Joseph Kraft, David W. MacEachron, Philip W.
Quigg, Harry Howe Ransom, Theodore C. Sorensen, David
8. Truman.

The Chairman, Mr. Dillon, opened the meeting, noting that
although this entire series of discussion was "off-the-record,"
the subject of discussion for this particular meeting was
especially sensitive and subject to the previously announced
restrictions.

Mr. Dillon noted that problems involving CIA's relation-
ships with private institutions would be examined at a later
meeting, though neither Mr. Bissell nor others should feel
restricted in discussion of such problems this evening.

As the session's discussion leader, Mr. Bissell offered a
review and appraisal of covert operations in U.S. foreign
policy.

Touching briefly upon the question of responsibility, of
whether these agencies are instruments of national policy,
Mr. Bissell remarked that, in such a group, he needn't
elaborate on CIA's responsiveness to national policy; that
we could assume that, although CIA participates in policy
making (as do other "action agencies," such as AID, the
military services and Departments, in addition to the Depart-

328

The CIA and the Cut{ of Intelligence

ment of State), CIA was a re!>pdnsible agency of national

policy.

Indeed, in Mr. Bissell's personal experience, CIA's role
was more carefully circumscribed and the established limits
observed more attentively than in ECA, where Mr. Bissell
had previously worked.

The essential control of CIA resided in a Cabinet-level
committee, comprising a representative of the White House
staff, the Under Secretary of State, Deputy Secretary of
Defense, and in recent years the personal participation of
the Director of Central Intelligence. Over the years this
committee has become a more powerful and effective device
for enforcing control. It reviews all new projects, and periodi-
cally scrutinizes ongoing projects.

As an interdepartmental committee composed of busy
officials who meet only once per week, this control group is
of limited effectiveness. Were it the only control instrument,
Mr. Bissell would view it as inadequate, but in fact this
committee is merely the summit of control, with a series of
intermediate review procedures as lower levels. Projects are
usually discussed in the relevant office of the Assistant Secre-
tary of State, and, if at all related to Defense Department
interests, at a similar level in DoD, frequently after consider-
ation at lower levels in these departments. It was rare to
take an issue before the Special Group prior to discussion at
lower levels, and if there was objection at lower levels, most
issues were not proposed to the Special Group — excepting
large projects or key issues, which would be appealed at
every level, including the Special Group.

Similar procedures applied in the field. Generally the Am-
bassador had a right to know of any covert operations in his
jurisdiction, although in special cases (as a result of requests
from the local Chief of State or the Secretary of State) the
chief of station was instructed to withhold information from
*the Ambassador. Indeed, in one case the restriction was
imposed upon the specific exhortation of the Ambassador in
question, who preferred to remain ignorant of certain
activities.

Of the "blown" operations, frequently among the larger
ones, most are known to have been approved by the Presi-
dent himself. The U-2 project, for example, was an off-shoot
of the Land (intelligence) Committee of the Killian panel on
surprise attack; it was proposed as a Killian panel recommen-

Appendix

329

dation to the President, supported by USIB; its procurement,
in utmost secrecy, was authorized by the President, and,
with the exception of the first few flights (the initial authori-
zation being to operate for a period of ten days, "weather
permitting"), each individual flight was authorized by the
President, with participation by the Secretary of State and
Secretary of Defense.

Covert operations should, for some purposes, be divided
into two classifications: (1) Intelligence collection, primarily
espionage, or the obtaining of intelligence by covert means;
and (2) Coven action, attempting to influence the internal
affairs of other nations — sometimes called "intervention" — by
covert means.

Although these two categories of activity can be separated
in theory, intelligence collection and covert action interact
and overlap. Efforts have been made historically to separate
the two functions but the result has usually been regarded as
"a total disaster organizationally." One such attempt was
the establishment in the early days of CIA (1948) of the OPC
under Frank G. Wisner as a separate organ for covert action.
Although supported and given cover by the CIA, this organi-
zation was independent and Wisner reported directly to the
Secretaries of State and Defense. "Beedle" Smith decided
when he became Director of Central Intelligence that, if he
were responsible for OPC, he was going to run it and it was
merged with the clandestine intelligence organization in such
a way that within the combined Clandestine Services there
was a complete integration of intelligence collection and
covert action functions in each area division.

In addition to our experience with OPC, the Germans and
the British for a time during the war had organizations for
covert special operations separate from, and inevitably in
competition with, their espionage services. In every case the
experience has been unfortunate. Although there are many
disagreements within CIA on matters of doctrine, the view is
unanimous that the splitting of intelligence and covert action
services would be disastrous, with resulting competition for
recruitment of agents, multiple recruitment of the same agents,
additional security risks, and dissipation of effort.

Concerning the first category, intelligence collection, we
should ask: (a) What is the scope of "covert intelligence
collection"? (b) What intelligence collection functions can
best be performed covertly?

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The CIA and the Cull of Inielligence

The scope of covert intelligence collection includes: (1)
reconnaissance; (2) communications and electronic intelli-
gence, primarily undertaken by NSA; and (3) classical
espionage, by agents. In gauging their utility, Mr. Bissell
ranked (1) the most important, (2) slightly below, and (3)
considerably below both (1) and (2).

Although it is less effective, classical espionage is "much
the least costly," with the hardware components of recon
and NSA activities raising their costs considerably.

(In the after-dinner discussion, an authority on communi-
cations-electronics expressed his concurrence in Mr. Bissell's
relative rankings. Notwithstanding technological advances in
cryptology, the increased sophistication in most cryptosystems
assured that (1) (reconnaissance) outranked (2). Another
observer noted that the budgets correlated in similar manner,
the former speaker concurring and noting that, however
surprising, the budgets approximated maximum utility ac-
cording to cost-effectiveness criteria.)

Postwar U.S. reconnaissance operations began, historically,
as "covert" operations, primarily a series of clandestine over-
flights of Communist territory in Eastern Europe, inaugu-
rated in the early 19SUs. These early efforts were followed by
the U-2 project, which provided limited coverage but dra-
matic results.

Now we have reconnaissance satellites. Overhead recon-
naissance is one of the most open of "secrets" in interna-
tional affairs; it is no longer really a "covert activity," and
bureaucratic responsibility for it now resides in the Pentagon.

Classical espionage, in the early postwar years, was con-
ducted with special intensity in West Germany, and before
the Berlin wall, in that city, which was ideal for the moving
of agents in both directions, providing a sizable flow of
political and economic intelligence (especially from East
Germany).

Throughout the period since the early fifties, of course,
the Communist bloc, and more especially the U.S.S.R. itself,
has been recognized as the primary target for espionage
activities. Circumstances have greatly limited the scale of
operations that could be undertaken within the bloc so much
of the effort has been directed at bloc nationals stationed in
neutral or friendly areas, and at "third country" operations
that seek to use the nationals of other non-Communist coun-
tries as sources of information on the Soviet bloc.

Appendix

331

More recently there has been a shift in priorities for classi-
cal espionage toward targets in the underdeveloped world.
Partly as a result of this change in priorities and partly
because of other developments, the scale of the classical
espionage effort mounted in Europe has considerably dimin-
ished. The U.S.S.R. remains a prime target but Communist
China would today be given the same priority.

As to the kinds of information that could be obtained,
espionage has been of declining relative importance as a
means of learning about observable developments, such as
new construction, the characteristics of transportation systems,
the strength and deployment of military forces and the like
because reconnaissance has become a far more effective
collection technique and (except in China) travel is freer and
far more extensive than some years ago. It had been hoped
that espionage would contribute to the collection of intelli-
gence on Soviet and East European technology, since this is
a body of information not readily observable (until embod-
ied in operational systems). Another type of intelligence for
which espionage would seem to be the only available tech-
nique is that concerning enemy intentions. In practice how-
ever espionage has been disappointing with respect to both
these types of intelligence. They are for obvious reasons
closely guarded and the task is just too difficult to permit
results to be obtained with any dependability or regularity.
With respect to the former category — technology — the pub-
lished literature and direct professional contacts with the
scientific community have been far richer sources.

(A communications-electronics expert interjected the ob-
servation that the same reasoning applied to inadequacies in
S&T intelligence collection; technology is just too difficult
for agents, who are insufficiently trained to comprehend
what they observe as the technologies become increasingly
complicated.)

As to friendly neutrals and allies, it is usually easier to
learn what one wishes by overt contacts, human contacts of
overt members of the U.S. mission or private citizens. We
don't need espionage to learn British, or even French
intentions.

(The speaker was questioned as to whether the other
side's espionage was of similarly limited utility, or whether —
with their Philbys — they were more successful?)

Mr. Bissell remarked that Soviet Union successes were

332

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

primarily in counterintelligence, though going back aways,
the Soviet Union had been more successful in recruiting
U.S. scientists.

(The question was raised as to whether Burgess and
MacLean constituted merely C.I. successes.)

Mr. Bissell thought so.

(In another's recollection, Soviet atomic intelligence ef-
forts had been of substantial assistance in facilitating the
Soviet nuclear weapons program. Although it is not possible
to estimate with precision the effects of this intelligence, it
was Lewis Strauss's guess that atomic intelligence successes
allowed the Soviets to detonate their first device at least one
and one-half and perhaps as much as two and one-half years
before such a test would have been possible with purely
indigenous efforts.)

The general conclusion is that against the Soviet bloc or
other sophisticated societies, espionage is not a primary source
of intelligence, although it has had occasional brilliant suc-
cesses (like the Berlin Tunnel and several of the high level
defectors). A basic reason is that espionage operates mainly
through the recruitment of agents and it is enormously diffi-
cult to recruit high level agents. A low level agent, even
assuming thut he remained loyal and that there is some
means of communicating with him[,| simply cannot tell you
much of what you want to know. The secrets we cannot find
out by reconnaissance or from open sources are in the minds
of scientists and senior policy makers and are not accessible
to an ordinary citizen even of middle rank.

In contrast, the underdeveloped world presents greater
opportunities for covert intelligence collection, simply be-
cause governments are much less highly oriented; there is
less security consciousness; and there is apt to be more
actual or potential diffusion of power among parties, localities,
organizations, and individuals outside of the central govern-
ments. The primary purpose of espionage in these areas is to
provide Washington with timely knowledge of the internal
power balance, a form of intelligence that is primarily of
tactical significance.

Why is this relevant?

Changes in the balance of power are extremely difficult to
discern except through frequent contact with power elements.
Again and again we have been surprised at coups within the
military; often, we have failed to talk to the junior officers

Appendix

333

or non-coms who are involved in the coups. TTie same prob-
lem applies to labor leaders, and others. Frequently we
don't know of power relationships, because power balances
are murky and sometimes not well known even to the princi-
pal actors. Only by knowing the principal players well do
you have a chance of careful prediction. There is real scope
for action in this area; the technique is essentially that of
"penetration," including "penetrations" of the sort which
horrify classicists of covert operations, with a disregard for
the "standards" and "agent recruitment rules." Many of the
"penetrations" don't take the form of "hiring" but of estab-
lishing a close or friendly relationship (which may or may
not be furthered by the provision of money from time to
time).

In some countries the CIA representative has served as a
close counselor (and in at least one case a drinking companion)
of the chief of state. These are situations, of course, in which
the tasks of intelligence collection and political action over-
lap to the point of being almost indistinguishable.

(The question was raised as to why ordinary diplomats
couldn't maintain these relationships.)

Mr. Bissell observed that often they could. There were
special cases, however, such as in one Republic where the
chief of state had a "special relationship" with the senior
CIA officers without the knowledge of the U.S. Ambassador
because the President of the Republic had so requested it.
The CIA man sent reports by CIA channels back to the
Secretary of State, but the Ambassador in the field, as
agreed by the Secretary of State, wasn't to be informed. In
his case, a problem arose when the relevant Assistant Secre-
tary of State (who had received cables from the CIA man)
became the new Ambassador, but the President of the Re-
public liked the new Ambassador and asked that a "special
relationship" be established with him too.

Aside from this unique case, it seems to have been true
generally that the Ambassador has to' be a formal representa-
tive of the United States most of whose relations with the
government to which he is accredited are through or with
the knowledge of its foreign office. On the other hand, the
CIA representative can maintain a more intimate and infor-
mal relationship the privacy of which can be better pre-
served both within the government of the country in question
and within the United States government. Moreover, if a

334

The CIA and the Cu!i of Intelligence

chief of state leaves the scene or changes his mind, you can
quietly move a station chief, but it could be embarrassing if it
were necessary suddenly to recall the U.S. Ambassador.

(Was the previously described relationship really a "covert
operation"?)

The "cover" may be to shield visibility from some junior
officials, or. in the case of a "private adviser" to a chief of
state, to shield this fact from politicians of the local
government.

(Another observation was that the method of reporting,
through CIA channels, constituted one difference and had
some influence. A chief of state who knew that CIA's
reports would be handled in a smaller circle, with less
attendant publicity, might prefer these channels for some
communications.)

Concerning the second category, coven action:

The scope of covert action could include: (1) political
advice and counsel; (2) subsidies to an individual; (3) finan-
cial support and "technical assistance" to political parties;
(4) support of private organizations, including labor unions,
business firms, cooperatives, etc.; (5) covert propaganda; (6)
"private" training of individuals and exchange of persons;
(7) economic operations; and (8) para-military [or] political
action operations designed to overthrow or to support a
regime (like the Bay of Pigs and the programs in Laos).
These operations can be classified in various ways: by the
degree and type of secrecy required [,] by their legality,
and, perhaps, by their benign or hostile character.

From whom is the activity to be kept secret? After five
days, for example, the U-2 flights were not secret from the
Russians but these operations remained highly secret in the
United States, and with good reason. If these overflights had
"leaked" to the American press, the U.S.S.R. would have
been forced to take action. On a less severe level the same
problem applies to satellite reconnaissance. These are exam-
ples of two hostile governments collaborating to keep opera-
tions secret from the general public of both sides. "Unfor-
tunately, there aren't enough of these situations."

(The remark was interjected that there was another rea-
son for secrecy; if one had to admit to the activity, one
would have to show the results, and exactly how good or bad
they were.)

Appendix

335

Covert operations could be classified by their legality or
illegality. Many of them are legal.

TTiey can also be classified as "benign" or "hostile." Most
operations in Western Europe have been "benign," though
involving the gravest improprieties, and in some cases clearly
illegal action. (E.g., covert support of political parties.)

I n the case of a large underdeveloped country, for example,
money was put into a party's funds without the knowledge of
that party. The relatively few economic operations that have
been undertaken have been both ^enign and legal. One of
these involved the provision by CIA of interim ostensibly
private financing of an overt project pending an overt and
official loan by AID. Its purpose was to give AID time for
some hard bargaining without causing a complete failure of
the transaction. The stereotype, of course, is that all covert
operations are illegal and hostile, but this is not really the
case.

The role of covert intervention can best be understood by
contrast with the overt activities of the United States
government. Diplomacy seeks results by bargaining on a
government-to-government basis, sometimes openly — some-
times privately. Foreign economic policy and cultural pro-
grams seek to modify benignly the economics of other coun-
tries and the climate of opinion within them. Covert inter-
vention is usually designed to operate on the internal power
balance, often with fairly short-term objectives in view. An
effort to build up the economy of an underdeveloped coun-
try must be subtle, long continued, probably quite costly,
and must openly enlist the cooperation of major groups
within the country if it is to have much influence. On the
other hand an effort to weaken the local Communist party
or to win an election, and to achieve results within at most
two or three years, must obviously be covert, it must prag-
matically use the people and the instrumentalities that are
available and the methods that seem likely to work. It is not
surprising that the practitioners within the United States
government of these two types of intervention differ temper-
amentally and in their preferences for methods, friends, and
ideologies.

The essence of such intervention in the internal power
balance is the identification of allies who can be rendered
more effective, more powerful, and perhaps wiser through
covert assistance. Typically these local allies know the source

336

The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence

of the assistance but neither they nor the United States
could afford to admit to its existence. Agents for fairly
minor and low sensitivity interventions, for instance some
covert propaganda and certain economic activities, can be
recruited simply with money. But for the larger and more
sensitive interventions, the allies must have their own
motivation. On the whole the Agency has been remarkably
successful in finding individuals and instrumentalities with
which and through which it could work in this fashion.
Implied in the requirement for a pre-existing motivation is
the corollary that an attempt to induce the local ally to follow
a course he does not believe in will at least reduce his
effectiveness and may destroy the whole operation. It is
notably true of the subsidies to student, labor, and cultural
groups that have recently been publicized that the Agency's
objective was never to control their activities, only occasion-
ally to point them in a particular direction, but primarily to
enlarge them and render them more effective.

Turning to relations with other agencies, Mr. Bissell was
impressed by the degree of improvement in relations with
the State Department. Seen from the Washington end, there
has been an increase in consultation at the country-desk
level, more often at the Bureau level or the Assistant Secre-
tary of State level as the operation shapes up. The main
problem some five to six years ago was not one of responsi-
bility or authority but of cover arrangements.

Mr. Bissell provided a brief critique of covert operations,
along the following lines:

That aspect of the Agency's operations most in need of
change is the Agency's use and abuse of "cover." In this
regard, the "background paper" for this session raised many
cover-oriented questions.

On disclosure of private institutional support of late, it is
very clear that we should have had greater compartmenting
of operations.

If the Agency is to be effective, it will have to make use of
private institutions on an expanding scale, though those rela-
tions which have "blown" cannot be resurrected.

We need to operate under deeper cover, with increased
attention to the use of "cut-outs." CIA's interface with the
rest of the world needs to be better protected.

If various groups hadn't been aware of the source of their

Appendix

337

funding, the damage subsequent to disclosure might have
been far less than occurred.

The CIA interface with various private groups, including
business and student groups, must be remedied.

The problem of Agency operations overseas is frequently
a problem for the State Department. It tends to be true that
local allies find themselves dealing always with an American
and an official American — since the cover is almost invaria-
bly as a U.S government employee. There are powerful
reasons for this practice, and it will always be desirable to
have some CIA personnel housed in the Embassy compound,
if only for local "command post" and communications
requirements.

Nonetheless, it is possible and desirable, although difficult
and time-consuming, to build overseas an apparatus of unof-
ficial cover. This would require the use or creation of private
organizations, many of the personnel of which would be
non-U. S. nationals, with freer entry into the local society
and less implication for the official U.S. posture.

The United St.ites should make increasing use of non-
nationals, who, with effort at indoctrination and training,
should be encouraged to develop a second loyalty, more or
less comparable to that of the American staff. As we shift
our attention to Latin America, Asia, and Africa, the con-
duct of U.S. nationals is likely to be increasingly circumscribed.
The primary change recommended would be to build up a
system of unofficial cover; to see how far we can go with
non-U. S. nationals, especially in the field. The CIA might
be able to make increasing use of non-nationals as "career
agents," that is, with a status midway between that of the
classical agent used in a single compartmented operation
perhaps for a limited period of time and that of a staff
member involved through his career in many operations and
well informed of the Agency's capabilities. Such career agents
should be encouraged with an effort at indoctrination and
training and with a prospect of long-term employment to
develop a second loyalty and they could of course never be
employed in ways that would conflict with their primary
loyalties toward their own countries. This still leaves open,
however, a wide range of potential uses. The desirability of
more effective use of foreign nationals increases as we shift
our attention to Latin America, Asia, and Africa where the

338

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

conduct of United States nationals is easily subject to scru-
tiny and is likely to be increasingly circumscribed.

Tliese suggestions about unofficial cover and career agents
illustrate and emphasize the need for continuing efforts to
develop covert action capabilities even where there is no
immediate need to employ them. The central task is that of
identifying potential indigenous allies — both individuals and
organizations — making contact with them, and establishing
the fact of a community of interest.

There is some rcwm for improvement, Mr. Bissell thought,
in the planning of covert action country by country. Covert
intervention is probably most effective jn situatio ns where 5 *
Domriretiensive ctttjrt is undertaken wiih_a numlbei^of sega-
TSWDpei Jfll/llT'^esigne'd lo"supporr and complement one
anotTlFr'mnTt>''trivtria*( uTtfdlaiiCfly' significant effecirTSe
Agency probably finds itself invotved Irt too "trtany small
covert action operations having no particular relationship
with one another and having little cumulative impact.

There is no doubt that some covertly funded programs
could be undertaken overtly, Mr. Bissell thought. Often
activities have been initiated through CIA channels because
they could be started more quickly and informally but do not
inherently need to be secret. An example might be certain
exchange of persons programs designed to identify potential
political leaders and give them some exposure to the United
States. It should be noted, however, that many such inno-
cent programs are more effective if carried out by private
auspices than if supported officially by the United States
governinent. They do not need to be covert but if legitimate
private entities such as the foundations do not initiate them,
there may be no way to get them done except by covert
support to "front" organizations.

Many propaganda operations are of declining effectiveness.
Some can be continued at slight cost, but some of the larger
ones (radio, etc.) are pretty well "blown" and not inexpensive.
USIA doesn't like them, although they did have a real
justification some ten to fifteen years ago as the voice of
refugees and emigres, groups which also have declined in
value, and in the view of some professionals are likely to
continue declining in value.

In his last two years in the Agency, Mr. Bissell felt that
the Clandestine Services could have been smaller.

Indeed, steps were taken to reduce their size. It is impossi-

Appendix

339

ble to separate the issue of size from personnel and cover
problems. It was Mr. Bissell's impression that the Clandes-
tine Services were becoming increasingly a career service,
too much like the Foreign Service (personnel looking to a
succession of overt posts in a safe career). One result was
the circumscription of local contacts. There was a subtle
change taking place, which threatened to degrade some of
CIA's former capabilities. Formerly, the CIA had a staff
with a wide variety of backgrounds, experiences, and
capabilities. Its members were recruited from every sort of
public and pnvate occupation. If this diversity and vanety is
lost through the process of recruiting staff members from
college, training them in a fairly standard pattern, and carry-
ing them through orderly planned careers in the Agency,
one of the organization's most valuable attributes will
disappear.

Finally, Mr. Bissell remarked on large operations. It is
self-evident that if an operation is too large, it can't remain a
deeply kept secret. At best, one can then hope for a success-
ful formal disclaimer. The worst of many faults of the Bay of
Pigs operation was excessive reliance on the operation's
disclaimability.

It has been a wise decision that operations of that scale
not be undertaken by the Agency, except in theaters such as
Vietnam, where the stakes and standards are different.

Covert action operations are generally aimed at short-
term goals and the justification for the control machinery is
that bias of operators to the short run can be compensated
for in the review process. Mr. Bissell can conceive of no
other way to force greater attention to long-range costs and
values. One alternative is that caution will lead to ineffec-
tuality. "Operational types" will be risk-takers; the counter-
weight is, and should be, applied by the other agencies in
government.

In the discussion following Mr. Bissell's talk, the issue of
CIA cover was cited as among the more interesting from the
perspective of a former State Department appointee. The
size of covert operations known to other governments was a
continuing embarrassment, and the overseas staff maintained
for these purposes and known to host governments was a
similar source of embarrassment. From time to time, efforts
were made to reduce overseas staff; although agreement in

340

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

principle was readily forthcoming, the particulars of staff
reduction were difficult to obtain.

A former member of the Special Group (who served eigh-
teen months on that committee) agreed with Mr. Bissell's
earlier remarks on control mechanisms, insofar as they
applied to review of new projects. These received most
careful scrutiny. Insofar as the Special Group considered
ongoing projects during this eighteen-month period, it was
recalled that there was not any systematic, thorough proce-
dure for such review, the committee finding itself busy with
all the new proposals. If it were true that most operations
were most useful for short-term goals, then perhaps there
should be greater attention to review of ongoing projects,
and termination of more projects earlier than in past practice.

A continuing problem which worries one former official
was that concerning the "charter" of CIA, the public expres-
sion of which, in the National Security Act of 1947, was
necessarily vague. CIA's full "charter" has been frequently
revised, but it has been, and must remain [,] secret. The
absence of a public charter leads people to search for the
charter and to question the Agency's authority to undertake
various activities. The problem of a secret "charter" remains
as a curse, but the need for secrecy would appear to pre-
clude a solution.

Another former official remarked on the inadequacy of
clandestine intelligence as a means of obtaining enemy
intentions. Sherman Kent (former Chairman, Board of Na-
tional Estimates) distinguishes "the knowable" from "the
unknowable," and we should recognize that much remains
impossible to know, including, frequently, enemy intentions.

Respecting the reduction of overseas personnel and pro-
grams of declining utility, it was noted that the curtailment of
over-age and unproductive personnel was a thorny issue.
Recognizing the likelihood of appeal to the President and
the absence of widespread participation in a manpower review,
a former budget official arranged the participation of the
Bureau of the Budget. CIA, FIAB, and relevant Under
Secretaries in considerations of budgetary modifications. What
emerged was an inertia, partly the inertia of the cold war.
Parenthetically, a couple of much-criticized public media
projects (cited by name) had proven of value, as the fall of
Novotny in Czechoslovakia suggested, but a number of inef-
fective programs were retained. The problem was to free the

Appendix

341

budget, to do something new, in the place of old programs,
not to reduce the budget, but unfortunately, the chiefs in
CIA wanted to control their working capital. If it were only
possible to tell these officials not to worry, that we were
setting aside Sxxx million for CIA, and merely seeking to
encourage better use of the same dollar amounts, then it
would have been possible to move around some money. The
big "iffy" question was a particular (named) foundation,
which received a sizable allocation. Finally, everything was
cleared up, and the next big review was scheduled, but never
really effected as a consequence of the Cuban missile crisis.
The review was geared up in 1963 once again.

Another observer, drawing upon work with the "combined
cryptologic budget" and private industry, concluded that it
was usually impossible to cut a budget; usually it was only
possible to substitute a new project for an old one.

The Chairman suggested a number of questions: What are
the effects of covert operations being blown? What can be
done to improve the image of the Agency? What can be
done to improve relations between the Agency and the
press?

It was thought that a journalist's perspective might aid in
discussing these questions, but a number of prior issues were
thought to require attention:

(1) The matter of size required attention. In any govern-
ment agency size can become a problem; increasingly there
is a realization that the government is too big and "an
ever-swelling tumor." At some point there will have to be a
fairly sharp cutback in the U.S. foreign policy establishment.

(2) One was not overly impressed by the use of CIA in the
developing world; in any case, we could have increased
confidence in the range of choice in most developing areas.
Conversely, it might not be as easy as Mr. Bissell suggested
to know the power structure in more developed areas, in
Western Europe and Japan.

(A query was interjected: Why should we have increasing
confidence in the range of choice in developing areas?

Perhaps there are less variations than we earlier thought.
"Things are evening out and we can live more comfort-
ably.")

(3) Where do you bury the body? One is not completely
convinced by citation of the experience with Frank Wisner's
OPC. We could get around the responsibility issue raised by

342

The CIA and the Cull of Intelligence

"Beedle" Smith; we could get around conflicting chains of
command.

(4) Related to (3). Maybe there is a cost to be paid for
having covert operations under CIA. Perhaps we could have
intelligence collection under State and covert operations un-
der the Special Assistant to the President for National Secu-
rity Affairs.

In response to items (3) and (4) some earlier remarks were
clarified: one would not claim that the operational side of
CIA need be where it is. Rather, one would inveigh against
the splitting of covert intelligence collection and covert
operations. One could, however, split the operational side
from the analytic side. This is a plausible case, a solution for
which could be worked out (though, on balance, the speaker
was against it). But to split the operational side — as the
German case, the British case for a time, and our own for a
time suggested — would be disastrous.

Remarking on labor activities, one participant stated that
before May 1967 it was common knowledge that there had
been some CIA support for labor programs, but first Ramparu
and then Tom Braden spelled out this support in public.
Those in international labor affairs were dismayed, and cer-
tain newspapermen compounded their difficulties by confus-
ing AID with CIA, and claiming that the AFL-CIO's Free
Labor Development program was tainted.

Since these disclosures, the turn of events has been
unexpected. First, there hasn't been any real trouble with
international labor programs. Indeed, there has been an
increase in demand for U.S. labor programs and the strain
on our capacity has been embarrassing. Formerly, these
foreign labor unions knew we were short of funds, but now
they all assume we have secret CIA money, and they ask for
more help.

Worse yet, Vic Reuther, who had been alleging that oth-
ers were receiving CIA money, and whose brother's receipt
of $50,000 from CIA in old bills was subsequently disclosed
by Tom Braden, still goes on with his charges that the
AFL-CIO has taken CIA money. Here again, no one seems
to listen. "The net result has been as close to zero as possible.
We've come to accept CIA, like sin." So, for example,
British Guiana's labor unions were supported through CIA
conduits, but now they ask for more assistance than before.

Appendix

343

So, our expectations to the contrary, there has been almost
no damage.

A former State Department ofFicial offered some remarks
on intelligence operations as seen from the field. He con-
curred in Mr. Bissell's remarks on "cover." The initial agree-
ment between the Agency and State was intended to be
"temporary," but "nothing endures like the ephemeral."

How are Agency officials under "official cover" specially
equipped to handle covert operations? If the Agency station
chief has a "special relationship" with the chief of state, one
would submit that it was because the Ambassador wasn't
worth a damn. Moreover, such a "special relationship" cre-
ated the risk that the chief of state, seeing two channels to
Washington, could play one off against another. Some for-
eign statesmen are convinced that an "invisible government"
really exists, and this impression shouldn't be allowed.

Also, prejudice in favor of covertly obtained intelligence
is a troublesome thing.

One way to overcome the misconceptions is to make CIA
a truly secret service, and not merely an agency duplicating
the Foreign Service. With money shortages CIA has often
filled a vacuum, but this does not make it right.

Another questioned the discussion leader's proposal for
greater utilization of non-U. S. nationals. How could you get
non-nationals to do the job and to develop loyalty to the
United States?

One was not sure that it was doable, but it was worth
trying. It would be more prone to work if you used a
national of Country B to work in Country C, if what you are
asking is neither (I) against the interest of Country B, nor
(2) nefarious. You do need some cover, and the natural
vehicle is an organization with non-American nationals.

Another observer was struck by the lack of interest in the
"blowing" of covertly sponsored radio activities. Why has
there been so little interest in these activities, in contrast to
the immense concern over the CIA-NSA relationship? One
might conclude that the public is not likely to be concerned
by the penetration of overseas institutions, at least not nearly
so much as by penetration of U.S. institutions. "The public
doesn't think it's right; they don't know where it ends; they
take a look at their neighbors." Does this suggested expan-
sion in use of private institutions include those in the United
States, or U.S. institutions operating overseas?

344

The CIA and the Cull of Imelligence

In response, attention was drawn to the clear jurisdic-
tional boundaries between CIA and the FBI, CIA being
proscribed from "internal security functions." CIA was averse
to surveillance of U.S. citizens overseas (even when specifi-
cally requested), and averse to operating in the United States,
excepting against foreigners here as transients. One might
want CIA to expand its use of U.S. private corporations, but
for objectives outside the United States. It was recalled that
the Agency funding of the National Student Association
was, in every case, for activities outside the United States or
for activities with overseas objectives.

Why, we might ask, should the U.S. government use
nongovernmental institutions more, and why should it deal
with them in the United States? If dealings are overseas,
then it is necessary to maintain an overseas bureaucracy to
deal with the locals. It is also necessary to engage in commu-
nications in a possibly hostile environment. If one deals
through U.S. corporations with overseas activities, one can
keep most of the bureaucratic staff at home and can deal
through the corporate headquarters, perhaps using corpo-
rate channels for overseas communications (including classi-
fied communications). In this opinion, the policy distinction
should involve the use to which the private institution is put,
not whether or not to use private institutions.

In another view it was desirable for this discussion group
to examine different types of institutions. For example, should
CIA use educational institutions? Should CIA have influ-
enced the selection of NSA officers?

One was not aware that CIA had influenced the election
of NSA officers; if it had, it shouldn't have done so, in one's
opinion.

Mightn't it be possible to deal with individuals rather than
organizations?

Yes, in many cases this would be preferable. It depended
upon skill in the use of our operating capabilities.

As an example of the political use of secretly acquired
intelligence, a former official noted the clandestine acquisi-
tion of Khrushchev's "secret speech" in February 1956. The
speech was too long for even Khrushchev to memorize, and
over one hundred people had heard it. We targeted it, and
by secret means acquired a copy. The State Department
released the text and The New York Times printed it in full.
The repercussions were felt around the world, and particu-

Appendix

345

larly within the Communist bloc. The Soviets felt unable to
deny the authenticity of the text we released, and the effect
upon many of the satellite states was profound. It was the
beginning of the split in the communist movement. If you
get a precise target, and go after it. you can change history.

Another observer was troubled by the earlier-expressed
point about increased use of private institutions. Most de-
moralizing in the academic community was the sense of
uncertainty about institutions with which individuals were
associated. There is a profound problem in penetrating insti-
tutions within the country when there is a generalized loss of
faith, a fear that nothing is what it seems.

It was noted that the next session, on February 15, 1968,
would concentrate upon relations with private institutions.

To one observer, part of this solution would be found in
the political process, involving extragovernmental contacts
in the sphere of political action.

In response to a query, the relative ultilities of types of
intelligence data were reviewed. Most valuable was recon-
naissance, then communications — electronic intelligence, then
classical espionage.

We have forgotten, it was noted, the number one overall
source, namely, overt data.

The meeting was adjourned at 9:15 p.m.. and participants
were reminded of the next meeting on February 15.

WILLIA.M R. HARRIS
RAPPORTEUR

INDEX

A ll spy plane (later SR-71).

32. 67
Abel, Col. Rudolf, 159
ABM (anti-ballislic missiles).

177, 269-72
Aclus Technology. 126
Adoula, Cyril, 28
Aero Associates, 127
AFL-CIO, 45, 342
Africa, West. 164
African Research Group. 3U
Agency for International

Development (AID). 41. 50.

53, 109. 124. 206n.. 209n..

335; in Chilean election, 1964,

14n.; pcople-to-pcople

exchange programs, 45-47
Agnew. Spiro. 250n.
Agree. George. 327
Air America. 50-52. 105.

106-107, 121. 123-26. 132.

133.200.205. 215
Air Asia. 51, 52, 121. 123. 125,

126, 132. 133. 200
aircraft, spy planes, 175-76.

257-58, see also SH-71;

SR-71; U-2
Air Force, 67, 76, 253; Air

Asia and, 125-26;

contribution to CIA, 53; in

Cuban missile crisis, 262,

263-64; intelligence

services, 76-79, 258; missiles,

269; MOL (manned

orbiting laboratory), 86;

Peshawar base, 256;

Security Agency. 167; SOFs,

96; spy planes, 175-76

257-58. 284
airlines owned by CIA,

121-36, 200
Albania. 284; guerrilla

movement attempted. 21, 99
Allendc. Salvador: election,

1970, 12-17. 56n.. 252. 280,

300-301; overthrown and

killled, 17-18
Alsop, Joseph. 143, 271, 303
Alsop, Stewart, 279-80
Altschul, Frank, 327
ambassadors, CIA relationship

with, 39, 40, 29ft-92
American Committee for

Liberation, 119
Amory, Robert, Jr.. 32, 236.

260. 288. 302. 327
Anaconda Copper, 13, 56n.
Anderson. Adm. George,

285. 291. 292n.
Anderson. Jack, 16. 301
Angola. 127
Ankara. 158

Arab-Israeli conflict. 71/i., 174
Arguedas, Antonio, 1 16-17,
283

Arlington, Va., 234, 240
Army: in domestic surveillance,

193; G2-type units. 79;

intelligence services. 76-78, 79;

Security Agency, 167;

Special Forces, 97, 105-06.

109. 113
Army Magazine, 267
Asia Foundation, 21. 150-51

350

Index

Assistant Secretary of Defense

for Intelligence. 80
Atlantic Monthly, 260n.
Atomic Energy Commission.

81. 297
Aitwood. William. 3*4

Bailey. Pearl. 39
Baker. William. 2SSn.
balloons, propaganda. 137-39
Bangkok. 77
Barker. Bernard. 213
Barnds. William. 302. 302/i..
327

Barreintos, Ren*. 112. 114-17
Banlelt. Charles. 300-301
Bay of Pigs invasion, see Cuba
Beecher. William. 271. 271n.
Beirut, 214
Bell laboratones. 270
Bender. Frank. 109
Bennett. Lieut. Gen.

Donald. 78
Berger. Marilyn. 280
Berlin. 262; crisis of 1961. 185;

tunnel operation. 10. 332
Bernstein. Meyer. 44. 327
Berrellez. Robert. 300
Berry, Col. Sidney B., Jr., 327
Bissell, Richard, 39, 41. 43.

46, 67, 212-13, 237, 275; on

ambassadors, 291 ; Chief of

Clandestine Services, 3(K34:

Council on Foreign

Relations speech. 22-23, 24.

30, 32-35. 38. 43. 45. 275,

282; text, 327-15; on

Guatemala operations, 253;

replaced by Flelms, 27. 31; on

U-2 incident. 306
Bitlman. Ladislav. 77if

Deception Game, 152
Bolivia. Che Guevara in. 112-17
Boston Symphony Orchestra, 42
Bowles, Chester, 182, 291
Braden, Tom, 23 , 4 1-42 , 44, 3 1 8.

342

Brandt. Willy. 149
Brazil. 227; airplane

hijacking in. 21 1-12;

cryplological equipment

for. 73

Britain. 249; intelligence and
secret service. 8. 19. 154, 187,
289-90; Penkovsky as
agent. 154-56. 224; secrecy in,
302; Soviet official.^
expelled. 313; Special
Operations Executive, 100

Broe, William, 16-17, 56n.

Brown, Irving, 42

Brown, Sam. 41

Brussels. 214

Budget. Bureau of the. 208.
287-89. 340; see also Office
of Management and Budget

bugging (audio surveillance),
161-64

Bulgaria, broadcasts to. 146
Bunker. Ellsworth. 40. 291
Burdick. Eugene. 25
Burgess-McLean affair. 154, 332
Burke. Adm. Arleigh, 28
Busby, Fred, 275

Cabell, Maj. Gen. Charles, 27,
31

Cabot, Thomas D., 119
Cambodia: U.S. bombing,

27ln ; U.S. invasion, 231, 284
Camelot. Project, 14
Camp Hale. Colo., 102
Camp Peary, see Farm. The
Canada. CIA in. 227
Canal Zone. CIA training

base. 93, 109. 242
Canton. 137

Caramar (Caribbean Marine
Aero Corporation). 120

Carlson. Alex E.. I22n.

Carter, Lieut. Gen.
Marshall, 27. 308

Case. Clifford. 149. 190

Castro. Fidel. 31, 37, 46;

Index

351

Casiro, Fidel (com.)

assassination planned,

260n. : and Che Guevara,

III, 113: and Soviet

missiles, 260-61, 265; U.S.

plots to overthrow, 27,

108-109, 200, 251 , 254, 258-60
Calledge, Turner, 307; My

Life and The Times. 307
CBS (Columbia Broadcasting

System), 305
Central Intelligence Act

(1949), 7, 54, 131,209,227,275
Cerf, Bennett, 30K
Chennault, Gen. Claire, Flying

Tigers, 121
Cherne, Leo, 286n.
Chesapeake and Potomac

Telephone Company, 172
Chiang Ching-kuo, 40
Chiang Kai-shek, 40, 121. 256
Chicago, police trained by

CIA. 188
Chile: Allende overthrown

and killed, 17-18; election,

1964, 14, \4n.. 37; election,

1970,5, 12-17, 37, 47-48, 56n.,

252, 280, 3(X)-301, 319;

embassy in Washington

burglarized, 18; Project

Camelot in, 14
China, Chiang Kai-shek's

government, 121
China. Nationalist, 39-40,

102; CAT air transport for,

121-23; and U.S.

intelligence service, see also

Taiwan

China, People's Republic of, 69,
143, 256-58; balloon
propaganda in, 137-39: CIA
paramilitary operations in,
21. 100-103. 205; CIA
surveillance in. 6; 8, 9, 31,
1 22, 257-58, 264n. . 284; cultural
revolution, 40, 137-38;
espionage against. 168-69,

174-75, 176. 331: -Great
Leap Forward." 103: missile
program, espionage on,
165, 167, radio broadcasts to.
139-41; Red Guards.
137-39, 141; Tibetan revolt
against, 101-104, 127 , 308;
U-2 plane shot down. 264n,
China Air Lines, 123
CIA (Central Intelligence
Agency):

Airlines owned by, 121-46,
199

blacks and other minority
groups in, 238

budget presented to
Congress, 295-97

Cable Secretariat, 5S-59

case officers,
relationship with agents,
222-27, 228-30

chief of base, 62

chief of station, 39, 62

clandestine mentality, 5-6,
210-15, 230-34

Clandestine Services, 8,
13n. . 20, 40. 96-97, 108-109,
112. 208, 222, 227, 244, 280,
286, 291-92; and airlines.
130-36; in Cuban
intervention, 259-61, 264-^5;
domestic surveillance, 191-93,
197, 198-99; employees,
232-34; espionage, 59-63, 158,
159, 160n., 161-62. 164-65.
170-71. 178-84; and 40
Commillee, 278-84;
operations. 23-33, 35-38,
46-47, 113-14; organization,
49, 50. 52-53, 57, 58-65, 68; press
relations, 303-304, 311-13;
propaganda, 137, 140. 141-42,
144-45. 147. 153-54;
recommendations on, 322-24,
338-39

Communications, Office
of. 64

352

Index

CIA (Con l.)

control of; by
ambassadors, 290-92; by
Congress, 276-77. 292-309,
321-22; by 40 Committee.
27B-85: by PFIAB and 0MB.
2R5-90

cost and financing oT, 49-57

Counic rintelligcncv
Starr. 62. l79-80n.

covert action, see covert
action

Covert Action Starr. 24.
62-63. 137. 141, 142, 153. 192

Cunningham's study or.
84-85

Deputy Director
(DDCI), 57

Director (DCI). 57-58.
173. 174. 277. 279; and coven
action. 37; in intelligence
community. 70-7 In., 81,
90-92. 282-93; orfice or,
57-58

Directorate of
Operations, see Clandestine
Services above

Director's Contingency
Fund, 54, 55

and dissident or protesting
groups, 192-93

Domestic Contact Service.
191-92, 198-99

Domestic Operations
Division. 62, 191-93. 234

domestic surveillance,
187-202

economic operations, 46

espionage, see
espionage; intelligence
community

establishment or, 7, 19-20,
275-76

Executive Committee for
Air, 134-35

Far East Division, 205

FI/CI projects, 179

Finance Office of, 63-64

Foreign Intelligence
Slafr, 62, 171, 179

in roreign pohcy, 24il-5S

General Services
Administration, 49n.

headquarters and other
buildings, 234-36

Historical Intelligence
Collection, 245

Historical Starr. 58, 59

Intelligence Directorate,
63. 65-«.. 140, 187. 194. 199.
259-60. 304 . 312

Intelligence Resources
Advisory Committee. 58

investments. 55-56. 56n.

Katzenbach committee
investigation or. 43-45, 149,
151

Kennedy's action on, 27-28,
3(V-31. 318

and labor organizations,
42-43, 44-^5, 342-43

Logistics, Office of. 64

Management and
Services Directorate, 63-65.
68. 179, 235

Medical Services, Orrice
of. 64

Missions and Programs
Starr, 63

National Estimates, Board
or, 14-15. 58, 58n., 134-35,268

National Estimates,

ornce or, 72-73, 79. 238

National Intelligence

Orricers. 57-58, 58/i.. 268
Operational Services

Division, 63
organization or, 51-59
Personnel, Orrice or, 64-65
personnel policies and

benerits, 242-45
Planning, Programming,

and Budgeting Starr, 130, 148,

150, 288

Index

353

CIA (Con't.)

police training by, 187-89,
196

President's authority over,
37-38, 47, 251-54, 276-77, 285

press and, 299-316

private organizations,
connections with, 41-44

propaganda, set
propaganda and disin-
formation

proprietary organizations,
118-36

publications, 245—47

recruitment of personnel,
196, 2(X), 215-20. 236-39

Science and Technology
Directorate. 53, 63, 66-68.
83, 164. 165. 1%

secrecy in, 4-6, 213-14,
228-34, 251-52

secretarial staff, 239. 240

secret history of, 246-47

Security, Office of, 164,
179, 194

security precautions,
232-35, 239

Senior Executive Group,

85

size of, 20-21. 49-53

social class and snobbery
in, 239-43

Southeast Asia programs,
205-209; see also Laos;
Vietnam

Soviet Bloc Division,
154. 181-82. 192

special operations
(paramilitary), 96-117

Special Operations
Division, 24, 63, 96-97, 100,
105-106, 110. 136, 192

tactics, 19. 38. 39-42

Technical Services
Division, 63. 161-62, 164

termination of service
in. 226-28

Training Office of, 64, 85

training of personnel, 97-98,
222-23, 2J9-42

universities, connections
with, 50-51, 194-97. 238

in Watergate scandal. 9-10,
189-90, 298, 315

Western Hemisphere
Division, 192

women in, 239
Ciano, Count Galcazzo. 246
Civil Aeronautics Board. 130
Ci\nl Air Transport (CAT).
26 102. 121-24. 133. 134n..
200

Clark. Ramsey. 128

Clav. Gen. Lucius, 148

Clifford. Clark. 285

Cline, Ray S.. 40. 81

code breaking, 167-72 ^

Colby, William, 17, 58, 92,
189,192,268, 295/i. .319-20; as
Director, appointment,
209-10; on Laos operations,
276-77; press relations, 304;
in Southeast Asia programs,
205-209

Cold War, 6, 7, 10 . 23 . 99, 318;

espionage in, 167-68, 178,

185-86; propaganda in, 137,

146, 150
Colorado, 97
Columbia Forum, 308n.
Combat, Le, 144
COMINT (communications

intelligence), 22, 82, 167, 171
Committee to Re-Elect the

President (CREEP), 298
communism: containment of,

3, 8-9, 21, 22-23, 212;

defectors from, 151-52,

158-61, 182, 183, 216, 314;

radio propaganda against,

146-48

Congo, 127, 291 ; Che Guevara
in. 111; CIA intervention
in, 28, 104, 120, 132

354

Index

Congo, Democralic Republic
of the (Zaire). 1 1 1

Congress, 7, 90; CIA
controlled by, 276-77: 292-99,
321-22; and intelligence on
Soviet Union, 272-73; in
Watergate affair, 293. 298

Connally. John. 2S5n.-86n.

Continental Airlines. 124-25

Cooper, John Shcrinan, 295/1.

Cooper, Wayne, 206

Corfu. 284

Council on Foreign

Relations, 237; Bissell's
speech, see Bisscll,
Richard

counterespionage, U.S. and
Soviet Union, 177-86. 323-24

covert action. I9-4K, 68, 324;
CIA Directors, decisions, 37;
in Cold War, 21-23;
President's authority in.
37-38; special operations
(paramilitary), 95-117; in
Third World, 24-26; in
World War II and later,
19-20; see also Bissell,
Richard, Council on Foreign
Relations speech

cryptology, 167-72

Cuba: Bay of Pigs invasion,
5,9,27,28,31,37.83. 98, 101.
103, 107-108. 1 19-20.
122n.. 128, 132, 258-61, 265,
280, 282, 284, 306-307.
308n.. 309. 318. 339; CIA
plans, 251, 254. 258-63;
CIA's small operations
against, 46, 108-109, 119-20;
hijacked airplane flight to.
211-12; missile crisis. 155,
245^6, 261-65, 286, 307. 315;
sugar trade disrupted, 46,
U-2 flights over, 262, 263-64.
264n

Cuban exiles, 28, ICR, 200, 261,
306

Cummings. Samuel. 120
Cunningham, Hugh, study of

CIA. 84-85
Cyprus. 140, 292n.
Czechoslovakia. 159. 340;

intelligence service. 152;

Soviet action agamst, 177, 286

Daily Worker. The. 144

Dalai L.ima, 101-104

Daniel, Clifton, 305, 307, 311

Dcbray, Regis. 112. 114. 116

Defense Department. 50. 56. 65.
67. 109. 126, 140. 211. 292.
328-29; contnbution to CIA,
53; dissident groups,
surveillance of, 80; in
espionage, 167. 174; in
intelligence community, 69,
71,74-75, 80, 87-90; and
intelligence estimates, 267-69;
intelligence services,
Fitzhugh recommendations
on, 76. 80, 89-90; Laos
operations, 206n. ; missile
mformation, 272

Defense Intelligence Agency
(DIA), 78-79, 80, 87, 262-63.
269, 287

Defense Investigative
Service, 8(1

Defense Mapping Agency, 80

Delaware Corporations, 118

Denver, Colo., 194

Deriabin, Peter, 156

Dibble, Arnold, 123n.

Dien Bien Phu, 122

Dillon. C. Douglas. 30, 327

disinformation, see propaganda
and disinformation

Donovan, Gen. William, 7

Doole, George, Jr.. 51,
133-36

Double-Chek Corporation,

120, 122ji'
Doubleday and Company,

156

Index

355

Downey. John. 100. 123
drugs. CIA interest in, 197n..

214-15
Dryfoos. Orvil, 307
Dulles. Allen. 7. 22-23. 27.

28.30.31,32.78.83.214.236.

240. 283. 292, 296, 306. 311.
327; and Bay of Pigs
invasion. 258-60. 265. 307;
Chief of Clandestine
Services. 20; The Craft of
Intelligence, 154. 278. on
intelligence work. 20; on
KGB. 317; press relations,
303; replaced as CIA
Director, 27. 31

Dulles, John Foster, 26. 101

Eaton, Frederick, 86-87
EC-121 spy plane, 175, 257, 284
Egypt, 170, 259

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 26-27,

241, 253, 285; and Cuban
operations, 251, 260; denies
CIA intervention in
Indonesia, 101; summit
meeting with Khrushchev,
257

Eisenhower administration,

5, 256, 261, 290, 306
Electric Boat Division of

General Dynamics, 108
ELINT (electronic

intelligence), 82
Ellender, Allen, 277n.. 294
Ellsberg, Daniel. 64; burglary of

his psychiatrist's office, 189,

211

Encounter, 42

espionage, 68, 158-200: air
reconnaissance, 167-68,
257-59; audio surveillance
(bugging and wiretapping),
161-64; CIA In, 76-77,
81-83. 158-73, 176, '
177-87. 191-200, 322-23,
329-34; code breaking and

cryptology, 167-72;
counterespionage, U.S
and Soviet. 177-86. 323-24;
defectors in. 158-61, 182,
183, 216, 314; domestic
surveillance. 187-201;
mterception of messages.
167-68. 171-73; satellites and
spyplanes. 167, 174-76, 184-85;
technological methods,
82-83, 161-64, 166-68, 174-77
Estonian refugees, 201 , 276
Export-Import Bank, 249

Farm, The (Camp Peary, Va.),

24 . 98, 188 . 222, 241
FBI (Federal Bureau of

Investigation). 23, 81. 189.

344. CIA s friction with. 191.

194-95; in counterespionage.

17H-79. 323-24; in domestic

surveillance. 191, 193-94;

wiretapping by, 172-73
Fecteau. Richard. 100. 123
Federal Aviation Administration.

129

Finney, John, 310

Fitzhugh, Albert, panel,
recommendations on
intelligence services, 76, 80,
89

Foochow, 137
Foreign Affairs, 302
Foreign Broadcasting

Information Service (FBIS),

65, 140
Fort Bragg, N.C., 242
Fort Gulick, Canal Zone,

109-10, 242
Fort Leavenworth, Kan., 217
Fort Meade, Md., 80, 168, 169
40 Committee, 12, 13. 15, 81,

9I,138,I42,2S3,2S8,288;CIA

conirolled by. 278-87;

members. 279n.; name

changed. 278n.
Foster, John, 286n.

356

Index

Fox. Col Ed, 116

France; CIA in, 23, 144; Soviet

espionage in, 183
Frankel. Max. 30Kn
Frankfurt, defector reception

center, 151, 159
Franklin. George S., Jr., 327
Frei, Eduardo. 14
Fubini. Eugene, 327
Fukicn province, 137
Fulbright, J William. 293. 295

Galvin. Robert, 286n.

Garcia. Jolio Gabriel. 116

Gardner. John, 43

Gayler, Adm., 171

Geneva Accords: 1954, 26;
1962, 29

Germany, Nazi. 141;
underground movements in
World War II. lOS. 2U5

Germany. West. 77;

broadcasts From. 146, 149;
CIA in. 23, 62. 81. 137, 227,
330; communist defectors
in, 159-60; Soviet espionage
in, 183

Gibraltar Steamship Company,
119

Godley, G McMurlie, 291
Goldberg, Arthur, 127-28
Gomulka. Wladyslaw, 147
Gonzales, Eddie and Mario,
116

Graham, Maj. Gen. Daniel.

78, 78n., 267
Gray, Gordon, 286n.
Great Britain, see Britain
Green Beret murder case, 73-76
Green Berets, 109
Greene, Graham, The Quiei

Americans 25
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, 262
Guatemala. CIA intervention,

5,21,23,97, 107,254,306-307
Guevara, Che, 111-17;

execution, 115

Guinea, Portuguese. 127
Guyana (British Guiana), labor
unions, 45, 342

Halberstam. David, 31

Haldeman, H R., 193n.

Hanoi, propaganda in, 143

Harper & Row, Inc., 312-13

Harris, William R., .10. 327

Harrison, Gilbert, 307

Harvard University, Center
for International Affairs, 30

Havana, 258-59, 261

Hawkc, John Richard, 12R-29

Hubert, F Edward, 292

Heine, Eerik, 201

Helms, Richard, 13, 16, 41,
44,50n.,51,56,65,68,73n.,76,
128, 129, 21)9, 231, 235, 246,
274. 288. 29(1, 294-95, 295n. . 296;
and Che Guevara. 113; Chief
of Oandestine Services, 27,
3 1 ; discharged, 92; and
domestic surveillance, 188,
189, 190, 190n., 191, 197, 198,
201; and espionage, 176;
and foreign policy, 251; and
intelligence community.
84-88, 91-92; and National
Security Council, 250;
press relations, 309-13.
314-15; and propaganda,
145-^, 155; in Watergate
hearings, 190

Hcndrix, Hal, 300, 315. 315n

Hilton. John S.. 116

Holmes. Julius L., 327

Honduras, 97, 1 19

Hong Kong. 139. 140. 208. 214

Hoover. J. Edgar, 27, 194

House Appropriations
Committee, 89

House Armed Services
Committee. R8n., 292, 293

House Foreign Affairs
Committee. 17

Houston, Lawrence, 128, 312-13

Index

357

Hughes, Harold, 209-10. 277,

319-20
Hughes, Thomas, 32, 327
Hull, Gen. John, 285
Humphrey, Hubert, 129
Hungary: broadcasts to, 146;

revolt: 1957, 146, 147; in U.N. .

127

Hunt, E. Howard, 143n., 189,

210-11, 260n., 296n.
Huston, Tom Charles, 171n.,

190n.

India, 97, 291

Indonesia: CIA intervention,
5. 26, 36-37. 101, 122, 145,
254

Intelligence and Research.

Bureau of (INR). 80-81. 87
intelligence community.

68-92, 321-23; CIA in, 69-71.

72-76, 78, 81-88, 91-92;

classified information, 71,

71n.,73-76, 81,81-88, 91-92;

components of, 68-70;

Fitzhugh recommendations

on. 76. 80. 89; military services

in. 76-80. 83-84;

reorganization of. 88-92, size

and cost of, 69-70;

technological data collection,

82-83, 161-64; 167-68; 174-77
Intelligence Resources

Advisory Committee

(IRAC), 71, 87
Intermountain Aviation, 97,

121, 126-27, 200
International Armament

Corporation (Interarmco),

120. 136
International Business

Machines (IBM). 217
International Telephone and

Telegraph Company

(ITT), 162. 262, 315n.; in

Chilean election, 1970. 13,

16-17, 56n. , 300-301

Iran, 226; CIA intervention

in, 21. 23 , 26. 39
Israel: Arab-Israeli conflict.

71n.. 174; Liberty attacked,

175, 257, 284
Italy. CIA in, 17, 39, 144

Jackson, Henry, 272

Jaffe, Sam, 305

Janos. Leo, 260n.

Japan: investments in
Vietnam. 46; OSS operations
against. 100; Pearl Harbor
attack, codes, I65n.

Javits, Jacob, 275

Jews in Clandestine Services, 187

Johnson, Kelly. 32

Johnson. Lyndon B.: on
assassination plot against
Castro, 260n.; committee
on CIA's relationship with
private institutions, 44, 149;
and intelligence services, 66,
66n., 83, 90; and OMB. 288;
and PFIAB. 286; at Punta del
Este. 55; and Vietnam war,
206. 207, 253

Johnson administration, 5, 86,
109, 193, 206, 209n., 270

Johnston, Oswald, 304

Joint Chiefs of Staff, 78, 88, 175,
184, 257

Joint Reconnaissance
Committee, 175

Joint Reconnaissance Schedule,
284

Justice Department, 128

Kahn, David, 169n.. 17In.

Kalb, Marvin, 310

Karamessines, Thomas, 113

Karnow, Stanley, 25, 305n.

Katmandu. Nepal, 129

Katzenbach, Nicholas,
committee on CIA and
private institutions, 43-44,
149. 151

358

Index

Kennedy. John F., 253; and
ambassadors' responsibililies,
290: on assassination of
Castro, 260n. ; and Bay of
Pigs invasion, 5, 27, 31,
108; and CIA, 27-28, 30-31,
318; and Cuban missile
crisis, 261. 263-65; and Laos
intervention, 28-29; and
PFIAB, 286; press relations,
307, 308

Kennedy. Robert, 28

Kennedy administration,
30-31, 109, 143n., 280

Kent, Sherman, 34G

Khrushchev, Nikita, 185. 186.
257; in Cuban missile crisis,
264-65; de-Stalinization
speech, 22, 344-^5; tapes
dictated by, 164

Khrushchev Remembers, 156-57

Killian, James, 285

King, Martin Luther, 66n.

Kinshasa, 214

Kishi, Nobusuke, 145

Kissinger, Henry, 66, 7 In., 172,
211, 249. 257. 268; and
Chilean election, 1970, 12, 15,
17, 18, 47^8, 280, 319; and
intelligence services, 91, 278,
281n.. 285; National
Security Council, 58

Koch, Edward, 188

Kohler,Foy. 186

Komer, Robert, 207

Korea, North: CIA
paramilitary actions in,
100; espionage against, 166;
Pueblo captured, 169, 175,
257, 284; spy planes over, 176
257, 284

Korean war: Clandestine
Ser\'ices in, 20; intelligence
services in, 76; special
operations (paramilitary),
97, 100

Kerry. Edward M., 13, 15

Kraft. Joseph. 32, 271, 310. 327
Kwangtung province, 137-38

labor organizations, CIA
and, 42^3, 44-15, 342^3

Laird, Melvin, 88-89. 271-72

Land, Edwin, 286n. , 287

Langley, Va .. see CIA,
headquarters and other
buildings

Lansdale, Brig. Gen. Edward:
on CAT. 121-22, 129; CIA
operations, 25-26, 143

Laos: Armfe Clandestine,
29. 104. 106. 205; CIA in.
28-29, 37. 50. 53, 105. 122.
125. 132. 205-206. 215. 252.
253. 294. 298; Continental
Airlines in. 124-25; South
Vietnamese invasion, 90;
U.S. operations in, 206,
206n. . 253, 276-77, 294

La Paz, Bolivia, 113-14, 116

Latin America, 14-15; CIA
in, 109-11, 126, 135-36,
135n.-36n.. 163. 227-28

leakage of information, 271-73,
271n.

Ledcrer, William, J., and

Eugene Burdick, The Ugly

American, 25
Lee Kuan Yew. 255
Lendiris, Nick. 116
Lenin, Nikolai, 240
Leningrad, defense system, 270
Liberty (spy ship), 79. 175.

257. 284
Liddy, Gordon. 296n.
Little. Brown and Company. 156
Lockheed Aircraft Corporation.

32. 67

Lonsdale. Gordon. 156. 159-60
Look. 304. 308
Luce. Clare Booth. 286n.
Luce. Henry, 311

MacArthur. Gen. Douglas. 200

Index

359

McCone. John. 16. 83-84. 129.
becomes CIA Direcior. 27,
260; in Cuban missile
crisis. 263-65; press relations.
307-308. 312; resignation.
83

McCoy. Alfred, Thf Politics
of Heroin in Southeast Asia,
312

MacEachron, David W., 327
McGarvey. Patrick. CIA:

The Myth and the Madness,

257. 295
McNamara. Robert. 54, 56. 83.

263

McNeil. Wilfred. 56-57
M.igsaysay. Ramon. 25
Makanos. Archbishop. 292n.
Malta, 291, 292n.
Mao Tse-tung. 103. 141
Marighella. Carlos. 211-12
Martin, William. 169-70
Martinez, Eugenio. 50. 201
Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, Center for
International Studies. 153. 196
Maury, John, 188
Mexico City, 227, 228
Meyer. Assistant Secretary.
15

Meyer, Armin, 173
Meyer. Cord. Jr.. 312-13
Miami: CIA proprietary

agencies in. 120; Cuban

exiles in, 201
Miami Daily News, 315
Michigan State University, 197
Middle East, 187; espionage

in. 166. 289; peace talks. 172
Millikan. Max, 196
Mintoff, Dom, 291. 292n.
Minuteman missile, 185
missiles: ABM. 177, 269-72;

development, Soviet and

U.S., 184-85, 271-72. 273,

273n.; SAM, 263-64,

264n.-65n.

Mitchell. Bernon. 170
Mitchell. John. 12
Mobutu. Joseph, 28. 104
MOL (manned orbiting

laboratory), 86
Montmarin. Henri Marie

Fran<;ois de Marin de. 128.

129

Moorer, Adm. Thomas. 248n.
Moscow, defense system. 270
Mossadegh. Mohammed. 26
Mozambique. 127
Muller, Kurt, 77if Foreign

Aid Programs of the Soviet

Bloc and Communist

China, 153
Mulliken. John. 301. 311
Munich, broadcasts from. 146
Murray, Hugo, 116
Mussolini. Benito. 246

Nancahuazu, Bolivia. 112
Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 259
Nation, The, 306
National Committee for a

Free Europe. 1 19
National Intelligence

Estimates. 14-1 5, 58, 7 1, 72-73.

83. 261. 263. 268. 270
National Intelligence Resources

Board (NIRB). 87
National Photographic

Interpretation Center. 65,

234

National Reconnaissance
Office (NRO). 79. 174,284,288

National Security Act (1947),
7, 81, 188, 275, 276, 322, 340

National Security Advisor. 37

National Security Agency
(NSA). 22. 175. 211. 276-77,
287. 330. 343. 344; code
breaking and cryptology,
167-72; in Cuban operations,
262-63; Eaton's study of,
86-87; intelligence services,
79-80, 86-87, 175, 176;

360

Index

National Security Agency
(Cont.)

interception of messages,

171-72. KGB agents in, 183
National Security Council

(NSC), 20. 58. 248-50, 268;

and CIA functions. 7. 20. 37.

144. 278: intelligence

services controlled by. 91
National Security Intelligence

Directives (NSCIDs). 275-76
National Student Association,

CIA connections with, 41.

149, 151. 194. 197. 240. 281.

302, 343
Navy: in Cuban missile crisis,

262; intelligence services.

7f>-77. 81. missile-equipped

submarines. 269; SEALs. 96;

Security Service. 168; spy

ships. 175. 284; sec also

Liberty; Pueblo
Near East, see Middle East
Nedzi. Lucien. 292-93
Nepal, air transport for. 130-31
Net Assessment Group. 91
New China News Agency. 257
Newhouse. John. Cold

Dawn, 273n.
New Republic. The. 307
news media, CIA and. 299-316
Newsweek. 230. 312
New York, police trained by

CIA. 187-88
New York Herald Tribune, 314
New York Times, 22. 101.

104. 116. 133. 169n.. 187,

I90n., 207fi.. 213. 253.

271n., 272, 292. 305. 306-308.

308n.. 313-15, 344
Ngo Dinh Diem, 26, 101 ;

assassination, I43n.
Nguyen Van Thieu, 40. 208.

282. 310
Nicaragua, 97
Nigeria, 140
Nitze, Paul, 87-88

Nixon. Richard M.. 66. 209,
315n. ; and Chilean election,
1970. 16. 252. 319; and
domestic surveillance, I90n.,
276; and intelligence
programs. 88-92. 285; and
National Security Council.
248-50; in Watergate affair,
I7In.. 298

Nixon administration. 5. 18, 192,
26H, 271, 27 In., 276, 278,
310, 320

Nkrumah. Kwame. 239

North Carolina, CIA base. 97

Norway, air defense
equipment for, 54

Novotny. Antonin. 147, 340

nuclear weapons, testing, 73.
73/1.

Office of Management and

Budget (OMB), 53-54. 236;

CIA controlled by, 287-90
Office of Naval Intelligence, 79
Office of Policy Coordination

(OPC). 20. 275. 329. 341
Office of Special Operations,

20

Office of Strategic Services
(OSS), 7, 36, 141, 144 , 205,
236; guerrilla operations in
World War II, 19, 99, 100, 205

Office of War Information
(OWI), 141

Omnibus Crime Control and
Safe Streets Act (1968), 188

Opaloeka, Fla.. 109

Organization of American
States. 55

Pacific Corporation, 51, 52,

121, 123. 126. 132. 133
Pakistan. 256

Panama. 146; see also Canal
Zone

Panchen Lama, lOI. 103
Papich, Sam, 194

Index

361

Palhet Lao, 205, 215
Pavlichenko, Vladimir P.,
313

Pearson. Drew, 303
Penkovsky, Olcg, 8. 154-56, I5K,

160, IHI. 182, 224, 229-30,

264. 323
Penkovskv Papers, The, 154.

155-56'
Pentagon, 54. 177, 252,

266-69; contribution to CIA,

53, 67; in domestic

surx-eillance, 193; in

espionage, 167, 175-76,

1R4; in intelligence

community, 65, 73, 73n.,

80 . 83. 84, 86-88, 89-90, 92;

intelligence services.

Filzhugh recommendations

on, 76. 80, 89; missile

program, ABM, 269-72;

Project Camelot, 14;

universities and research,

connections with, 195; see

also Defense Department
Pentagon Papers, The, 26,

106, 121, 143, 271n., 315
people-to-people exchange

programs, 45-46
Peru, CIA in, 110
Peshawar, 256

Phllby, Harold ("Kim"), 156.

183, 184n.
Philippines: Huk insurgency,

100; Landsdale in, 25-26
PHOTINT (photograhic

intelligence), 82
"plumbers" group, 10, 64,

189, 210-11, 271n.,296n., ^15
Poland: broadcasts to, 146,

147; underground operations

attempted, 21
Polaris missile program, 79
Polaris submarine, 185
police, CIA training of, 187-89,

196

Pope, Allen. 26, 122n.

Portugal. 149. 249: aircraft
bought for use in Africa.
127-28

Poseidon missile program. 79
Powers. Franas Gary. U-2
mcident,5.9, 27, 32, 175,244,

256, 257, 264n. . 287. 306
Praeger, Frederick A.. 144
President, authority over

CIA. 37-38. 47. 251-53. 276.

277. 285
President's Daily Brief. 66
President's Foreign

Intelligence Advisory Board

(PFIAB). 285-87
press, CIA and. 299-316
Pntzlaff. John C, Jr.. 291
propaganda and disinformation.

131-57; balloons. 137-39;

black, white, and gray.

143-45; communist, 145;

defectors in, 151-53;

disinformation defined,

145; psychological warfare,

141-44; publications, 143-44,

152-57; radio broadcasts and

monitoring. 138-^1, 146-49
Proxmire, William, 199-20i
Pucci, Count Emilio, 246
Pueblo (spy ship). 79, 169, 175,

257, 284

Pyle, Christopher, 197

Quigg, Philip W., 327

Raborn, Adm. William, 57,

83-84

RADINT (radar intelligence), 82

radio: interception of messages,
168; propaganda broadcasts
and monitoring, 139-41, 146-49

Radio Americas, 119

Radio Free Europe (RFE), 21,
37, 44, 119, 121, 142, 146-49,
151; funds for, 146n., 14»-49

Radio Liberty (RL), 20, 37,
44, 119, 121, 142, 146-49

362

Index

Radio Swan. 119

Ramparts, 41. 98. 115. 195. 197,

241. 342
Random House. 308
Ransom, Harry Howe. 118,

327

Raus, Juri. 201
RB-17 spy plane, 175
Reston. James. 307
Reuther. Victor. 42, 45. 342
Reuther. Waller. 42. 45, 342
Rhodesia. 249

Roberts, Chalmers. 12; First

Rough Draft, 306
Roche. James, 148
Rockefeller, Nelson, 286n.
Rogers. William, 250n.
Rojas. Herbcrlo, 117
Romania, broadcasts lo. 146
Rooney, John. 55
Roosevelt. Kermii. 26
Ross. Thomas B.. 41. 308
Roslow, Walt, The Dynamics

of Soviet Society, 153, 1%
Rubins. Jerry, 305
Runge, Yevgeny, 159-60. 314
Russell. Richard. 56, 57. 293,

294 . 296

Saigon. 205, 208. 214, 244
Saipan, CIA installation, 97
Salinger. Pierre, 124
Salisbury, Harrison, 303-304
Salisbury, Rhodesia. 249
S.A.L.T. agreements, 10, 91,

269. 271n., 273, 273n.
SAM missiles. 263-64. 264n.
San Francisco. 140
satellites, reconnaissance. 6.

32. 67. 79, 82, 83. 330; in

espionage, 167, 174-76.

184-85

Saturday Evening Post, 42, 44
Saturday Review. \23n.
Schlesinger. James, 56n. . 68,

78n..90,92, 189, 198.209.268
Scoville. Herbert, Jr.. 271

Senate Appropriations

Committee, 293
Senate Armed Services

Committee, 68, 292, 293,

295n.

Senate Foreign Relations
Committee, 56n. ,7ln. ,92. 149.
189. 271, 293, 295n.

Sidey. Hugh. 312

SIGINT (signal intelligence).
82

Silben. Earl. 210-11
Singapore. 254-55, 283
Smith. Sumner, 119
Smith, Gen Walter Bedell. 20,

58, 329, 341-12
socialist movements, 23
Son Tay camp, 90, 90n.
Sorensen. Theodore C. 32, 327
South Africa. 249
Southern Air Transport. 26.

121, 122n., 126. 130, 134n..

135-36, 200
Soviet Union. 21-22, 23, 69,

82-83; balloon propaganda

in, 137; books critical of.

153-57; CIA failures in, 21-22,

99; CIA surveillance in, 6,

8,9,32, 256. 322; i« abo U-2

spy plane; counterespionage.

178-87, 323; Cuban missile

crisis, 155, 246. 261-65. 286.

308, 315; Cuban sugar for, 46;

Czechoslovakia invaded.

177 , 286; defectors from,

158-61, 182, 183. 314;

defectoreto, 169-70, 183; and

dissident groups in U.S..

192; espionage against, 158-60.

167. 168-69, 174-76, 330-32;

espionage by, 169-70. 178,

313-14; GRU. 181;

intelligence reports on . 265-67.

269-71, 272-73; KGB. 6. 8,

13.77, 114. 145. 154, 156, 160.

163. 178-86. 193. 201, 221.

229. 309. 313.314,317;

Index

363

Soviet Union (Con't.)
missiles. 184-85, 263-M,
2Mn. , 264-65, 268-7 1 , 272 ,273,
273n.; and Pcnicovsky case,
154-55: propaganda, 141, 145;
radio broadcasts to, 146,
150; reconnaissance of U.S..
6; in U.N., protests against
sale of aircraft to Portugal.
127-28; U.N. officials of,
accused of spying, 313-14

Spain, broadcasts from, 146

special operations (para-
military). 95-117

Sputnik. 184

SR-71 spy plane (A-ll). 32.
67, 86, 167, 176, 257, 284

Stalin, Svetlana, 182

Stanton, Frank, 148

State Department. 15. 18. 55. 59.
64, 65-66. 124. 128, 140. 176.
209n., 231. 244. 258.267,280.
284. 321, 328; and Brazilian
airplane hijacking, 212; in
Chilean election. I4n.;
communications, protection
of, 173, 186; cryplanalytical
section, 167; in intelligence
community. 70. 71. 80-81,
87; Middle East peace talks,
173; and nuclear weapon
testing, 73n.; people-to-
people exchange programs.
45-46; and Soviet missiles. 269

Steakley, Brig. Gen.. 79

Stennis, John, 293, 298-99, 322

Stern, Laurence, 14n., 190

Sternfeld, Larry, 1 16

Stevenson, Adiai, 128

Stimson, Henry, 167

Strauss, Lewis, 332

Studies in Inielligence, 246

Sukarno, Achmed, 26, 36-37,
101, 122, 145, 254. 259

Sullivan, William, 194

Sumatra, 26

Swan Island radio station, 1 19

Symington, Stuart, 266n. , 276,
277, 293-94; amendment to
limit intelligence spending,
293-94; subcommittee on
American L-ommitnienis
abroad. 168

Syria, 219

Szulc, Tad. 17. 90n., 260/i., 307

Taipei, 123, 124

Taiwan, 39-40, 41, 226; air
transport for, 121-23, 126;
broadcasts from, 139. 146;
propaganda balloons from,
138-39; technical espionage
installations in. 256-57; see
also China, Nationalist

Tania, Soviet agent, 114

Taylor, Gen. Maxwell. 27-28.
121. 285

Taylor. Adm. Rufus. 70. 85

Teheran. 173

telephones, tapping. 162-63.

172-73
Teller. Edward. 286n.
Teran. Mario. 1 16
Thailand. 105. 125
Thieu. see Nguyen Van Thieu
Third World. 9. 196. 216. 255.

318; CIA operations in, 24,

32. 40. 132. 320. 323. 332
Thomas. B. Brooks. 313
Thomsen. Roszel C. Judge. 201
Thuermer. Angus. 187-88
Tibet. 97; air support for. 122,

129; revolt against China,

101-104, 127. 308
Time. 301. 305. 311-12
Time, Inc.. 157
Tonkin Gulf. 105. 175
Tonkin Gulf resolution. 105,

125, 205
Tran Ngoc Buu, 45
Treasury Department, 55, 81
Truman, David B.. 327
Truman, Harry S. 274; CIA

established by, 7, 19-20, 275

364

Index

Tucson, Ariz., 127
Tyson's Corner, Va., 235

U-2 spy plane, 6, 22, 32, 67.
82-83, 155, 167, 175. 184-85,
256, 257. 287. 328-29. 334;
Cuban Hights. 262, 263-64,
264n,, Powers's mission, 5, 9,
27.32.175.241.256, 257,
264n., 287 . 306

Udorn. Thailand. 125

Ukraine, guerrilla movement
allempled. 99

Union Carbide. 249

United Nations, 249. 251;
protests against sale of
aircraft to Portugal. 127-28;
Soviet officials called spies,
313-14

United States Information
Agency (USIA), 45, 124,
149, 321

United States Intelligence
Board (USIB), 15, 71-76, 78,
81 , 174, 270. 272; in Cuban
missile crisis. 261-63; Watch
Report. 71-72

universities. CIA connections
with. 50-51, 195-98, 238

Vang Pao, Gen., 105
Vanguard Service Corporation,

119-20
Verification Panel, 91
Vienna, 224
Vientiane, 105
Vietcong, 106; CIA tactics

against. 206-207
Vietminh, 143
Vietnam. 291, 315; air

transportation in, 125. 132;

black-market currency,

208-209, 214; CIA in, 29,

37, 46, 50, 101. 105-107.

206-209; Counter Terror

(CT) program. 206;

intelligence services in, 76;

International Supervisory and
Control Commission, 125;
Japanese investments in. 46;
Johnson administration in.
5. 206. 209n; labor movement,
45; Lansdale in. 26. 143;
Laos invaded by South Viet-
namese. 90; Nungs. 106-107;
Phoenix counterintelli-
gence program. 17, 207,
207n.; police-training
program. 197; Provincial
Inlerrogation Centers,
206-207; Provincial
Reconnaissance Units
(PRUs), 206-207; U.S.
commitment in, 253
Vietnam. North, 28, 29; Chinese
support of. 138; CIA
operations in. 104-105,
20S-206; CIA propaganda
in. 143; espionage against,
166; refugees, 122; Son Tay
Camp, 90, 90n.

Wall Siren Journal. 152
Washington, DC, CIA

buildings, 234-36
Washington Monthly, 193
Washington Post, 90. 279-80,

305n. , 306
Washington Star-News, 304
Watergate burglary, 18, 50.

189-90. 213
Watergate scandal, 171n. ,

189-90, 209-1 1,319, 322; CIA

in. 9-10, 189-90, 298, 315;

Congress and, 293, 298;

hearings, 190, 193n.
weapons, outlawed, training

with. 98
weapons-detection system. 107
Welles. Benjamin. 314-15
Whalen. Lieut Col. W. H..

184-85

Wheelon. Albert ("Bud"). 83,
296

Index

365

Wicker, Tom. 300. 315
Wise, David. 41, 118. 207n..

310. 314; The PolilKs of

Lying. 308
Wise, David, and Thomas

Ross, The Invisible

Governmenl. 308-309
Wisner, Frank G.. 20, 244.

303, 329, 341
World War II:

counter-espionage, I7R:

intelligence services, 167;

OSS guerrilla operations, 19,
99. 100, 205: propaganda.
141

Wynne. Grevillc. Contact on
Gorky Street. 156

Yemen. Soviet forces in. 262
Young, Milton, 155

Zaire (Democriitic Republic

of the Congo), 1 1 1
Zorza. Victor. 156